

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, 

O: , rZ.3: r.jnjririii) T/». 
Shelf I&l&i % 


UNITED STATES OF‘ ERICA. 




7 (C. 

1 ' << 

etc 


s <3 

< 

' C<"‘ 

• < 


<r" • 

r '"<c c^v<<3- CO ^ 
. <<? 

r (i ^7 cO ; <3 - % 
rr\ <0 ' cCCX- C^ <<: 

r :: 


(,<■ 


c <C‘ ‘ 


"r Ci '7 <c_ .«■ 

7C t 

:ec 

•"< c * 0 xi 

7>c * 

£ C c<L 

> Sr CCC 

> - Sr ' - vo 

^ Sr ^ 

-c: cc 

- Sr c C 

^ cc 

c < c 

* c c 

^ OC 

- <f C 
. c c 

• -<rc-' 

- <r. 


<d <t 0 < 

3^ cj 

^ cO* 

r <e *3t 

c<£ C< 


Po 


c'< « < 
<OC> < 
c< «• < 
co < 
or v 
ex 
tzrrc 


C€ 

C< 

c c 
< 1 < 
cc 

c< 
cc 
; c < 

re c 
20 <r 

rco 

: C< 

r c 


















































































. 












✓ 
















































* 
















I 


* 


SATCHEL SERIES. 7W . / 6 





PRICE 40 CENTS. 



BERA 


D 


OR 


THE C. AND M. C. RAILROAD 


7 

STUART DeLEON. 


/ 



NEW YORK 

THE AUTHORS’ PUBLISHING COMPANY 


Bond Street 



y%z 

. 7 ) 31^3 


Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1879, by 
THE AUTHORS’ PUBLISHING COMPANY, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. — Bera 3 

II. — Greek 9 

III. — A Step in the Dark 12 

IV. — A Viper Hidden 17 

V. — A Viper Unmasked 21 

VI. — Homeless 28 

VII. — In a Strange Land 31 

VIII. — Greek’s Mistake 37 

IX. — Pruned 42 

X.— Wanted, Work 47 

XI. — Mariam 50 

XII. — Home 55 

XIII. — Gossip 59 

XIV. — Carbon 65 

XV. — Discouraged 69 

XVI. — Promoted 74 

XVII. — Brighter Days 79 

XVIII.— The Cloud 82 

XIX.— Dr. Daniel 87 

XX. — “The New Departure” 92 

XXI. — A Type of the Middle Ages 97 

XXII. — The Strike 100 

XXIII.— Gertie.... 106 

XXIV. — Death — in the Spring 112 

XXV.— Frost 117 

XXVI. — Revenge 123 

XXVII.— A Wild Engine 127 

XXVIII.— Found 133 

XXIX.— Mrs. Hull 139 

XXX. — Isaiah ix. 6 146 

XXXI. — The Golden Wedding 152 

XXXII. — Death — in the Winter 159 

XXXIII.— The Will 164 

XXXIV. — Greek, Bera, and the Baby 167 




* 





% 












t 


























✓ 








BERA; 

OR, 

THE C. AND M. C. RAILROAD. 


CHAPTER I. 

BERA. 

“ Bera.” 

“ Yes, father.” 

“Take this memoranda and direct Mason to open the box 
that came this morning. Greek will be here before I can 
attend to it myself. ’ ’ 

Bera Hull rose quietly and went to her father’s side. For 
one moment her hand rested caressingly on the silvered hair, 
then touching his brow with her lips, took the paper, and 
glided from the room. 

For nearly seventeen years Judge Hull had given hours, 
days, and months to the helpless, wailing infant for whom 
Alise Hull had yielded her life. 

Bera, he had called the baby, and with almost a woman’s 
tenderness he had given his life to the baby-girl, and his re- 
ward had come in her clinging love for him. Rarely is such 
devotion found between father and daughter. 

Early in life Judge Hull was left an orphan, with a large 


4 


BERA. 


fortune, so that his profession of law had been one of choice. 
With talent and energy he won his way to the bench ; but a 
few years after his wife’s death he had withdrawn, that he 
might give his attention to Bera’s education. In the large 
palatial mansion, he had chosen for the school-room the sun- 
ny apartment opening to the front on the wide, grassy lawn, 
and to the side into the conservatory. In this room, with 
its panels of natural wood, tinted walls, and crimson hangings, 
Bera Hull had grown to girlhood in the midst of the beauty 
and perfume that the sunlight, softended to perfect repose, 
carried to every corner of the library. A few choice pieces 
of statuary, a landscape, and the alcoves filled with Judge 
Hull’s “idols of life’’ — his books — completed the artistic 
finish, save, enclosed by the panels of his escritoire, hung a 
full-length painting of the girl-wife, who for so many years 
had looked down upon the prematurely grey-haired man in 
intense silence and benediction. 

As Bera withdrew from the room, there came a low rap, 
followed by the entrance of a handsome, dark-eyed young 
man, who asked pleasantly, “ Have I come too early, 
Judge ?’’ 

“Not at all, my boy,” answered the Judge heartily. 

4 ‘ The books you wanted for reference came this morning. 
Bera will bring them soon ; in the meantime I will examine 
your treatise.’’ 

St. Aubern was a university town, and to-morrow Greek 
Lyle would complete his college course. When, six years 
before, he came from a distant State, his scholarly habits had 
appealed to the broad sympathy of Judge Hull, who was a 
trustee of the institution, and he had opened heart and home 


BERA. 5 

to the shy, awkward boy, who had come to fill the place of 
the son heaven had denied him. 

For a few minutes they examined together the momentous 
pages that would meet favor or disfavor from the public ; 
when the Judge paused, and, looking at Greek keenly, said : 
“ You do not hear what I am saying, Lyle ; why are you so 
preoccupied ?” 

Greek colored consciously. “I was thinking of soniething 
I wished to ask you, but — ” 

Judge Hull pushed the papers one side. 

“ Now tell me,” he said kindly ” and if I can help you I 
will.” 

“ Then,” said Greek, slowly, “ I want to talk with you 
concerning my future. I had intended, as you have earnestly 
advised, to choose my life-work and enter upon it at once on 
my graduation ; but my father, pursuant to his former course 
of making a mere scholar out of me, has written that I am to 
study several years in Europe.” 

Judge Hull shook his head thoughtfully. “ A splendid 
opportunity, but an imprudent step, until you are sure of your 
own power in adverse circumstances to provide for yourself. 
However, your father knows best how he can afford to shape 
your future, and may you not be the one to suffer by such 
a course. When do you start'?” 

” After a brief stay at home ; in a few weeks, at least. 
But there is something more that I wished to ask you,” and 
Greek hesitated painfully. 

“ Speak on,” said the Judge, encouragingly. 

“ Judge Hull,” Greek spoke out bravely now, “ it will be 
hard that for which I ask, but I cannot go away, to be gone 


6 


BERA. 


for years, and not know to what I may return. Almost every 
day, all these years, I have met here in this room your daugh- 
ter, and to see her was to love her. When I return, may I 
come and claim her for my wife ?” For a moment the Judge 
sat dazed, then he said slowly : 

“You want Bera — my little girl — my baby — for your wife ? 
Greek Lyle, I do not understand !” And the moments 
passed as the two men sat and looked at each other ; till the 
intense, painful silence was broken by the anxious question, 
“ Father, may I come ?” 

Hesitating at the threshold stood Bera Hull, lovely, indeed, 
as the sunlight flashed in the masses of golden hair her large 
eyes, a rare shade of purplish blue, turned in grave wonder 
to her father. 

“Yes, daughter, come ; come and tell me this is not true ; 
tell me that you love your father alone ; tell Mr. Lyle it is 
impossible ; that you are not a woman ; that you will never 
leave me — oh, my baby !” and, with a groan, he caught the 
startled girl in his arms. 

“Father, father! Tell me what you mean,” she cried 
pleadingly. 

The Judge released her suddenly. “ Go and tell him 
he shall not rob me ; you do not love him, and never 
will.” 

Bera turned to Greek, and stood trembling helplessly before 
him. 

The young man, his face aglow with untold love for the 
beautiful girl, came forward. 

“ Miss Hull, this is a strange wooing ; 1 , who have never 
spoken a word of love, or had the opportunity to win yours, 


BERA. 


7 


must now risk all in telling you that I love you. And oh ! 
Bera, my darling, give me hope,” and his voice trembled 
with earnestness as he put out his hands. 

The look of startled wonder passed from Bera’s eyes, and 
her lips moved mutely ; then, with a low cry, as the revelation 
of this strong, overpowering love forced itself upon her, she 
turned and buried her head on her father’s breast. 

The father clasped her closely and groaned. “ Then you 
love him ; oh ! my child !” and the strong tnan wept in that 
moment when he was bereaved of his daughter. Mothers are 
not often surprised when their daughters learn to love ; but 
when that watchful eye is not by to warn, fathers are startled 
when the fact comes suddenly to them. So it had been with 
Judge Hull ; while he had thought Bera still a child, woman- 
hood had stolen her from him ere he was aware. 

Silence had fallen on the little group while the Judge was 
trying to accustom himself to the inevitable. He put Bera 
from him, and walked slowly up and down the library. Di- 
rectly he paused before his dead wife’s portrait, and his face 
softened. After a little time he turned to Greek. 

‘ ‘ It was a hard question you asked me, ’ ’ he said, his voice 
broken with emotion, and laying his hand on Bera’s bowed 
head, “ but I can answer it now. She is so young, I never 
thought of this ; but I could promise her to no one in whose 
hands I would be as sure of her happiness. You give prom- 
ise of a noble, cultivated manhood, and I shall be proud to 
call you my son. But I ask you to wait. You will soon meet 
in other lands women .more gifted than my little girl ; wait 
until you are sure that she is more to you than another could 
be ; wait until she has met other men, and claims you to be 


8 


BERA. 


the best. Till then no words of love must pass between you. 
You may write to each other under my supervision, and on 
your return, if still the wish of both, Bera shall be yours. 
Are you content ?” 

“ Content with your promise, though it will be hard never 
to tell her in three long years how I love her,” answered 
Greek, ruefully. 

Bera lifted her head, and the flash of color over the serious 
face was full of golden promises for him. 

Judge Hull rested his hand on the glossy hair of his dar- 
ling, and seemed to be looking beyond the narrow confines 
of the room, then he turned to Greek and said, hesitatingly : 

“ Promise me, in all the storms that come — and they will 
come — you will shield my baby till she strengthens, for I have 
been wrong in hiding her away, and the world will be hard 
for her to face. If I should be gone when you return, prom- 
ise me.” 

And there, with a rose-colored future before him, Greek 
promised. 

\ 


GREEK. 


9 


CHAPTER II. 

GREEK. 

St. Aubern, although a place of forty thousand inhabi- 
tants, is essentially rural in its appearance. The houses, 
something between an Italian palace and an English cottage, 
are built of wood ; but, in the dim light of overshadowing 
trees, are fair to see. Each stands in the midst of its own 
encircling grass-plot, half buried in vines and flowers ; the 
outward facings, clusters of gardens with fruit-trees and sum- 
mer-houses, fill the square on whose limit it stands. 

Under the sea of billowy verdure throngs of people were 
gathering to the great college chapel — people who were 
aroused once a year to take cognizance of the great fount of 
learning so quietly overflowing in their midst. 

Commencement-day, the day culminating in scholarly 
ambition to the student, who for years has had his world 
between the pages of a book. To-day he is taking his last 
stand on familiar ground ; to-morrow he enters the gate of 
unknown fields, where, with college-bred modesty, each one 
hopes to rank among the first, his feet the swiftest in the race, 
his hands the strongest to help emancipate a chain-bound 
world. Ay, chain-bound ! but the links are of the world’s 
own forging, and the zealous liberator but rends asunder to 
see them welded together again by the hand he hoped to free. 

On the rostrum were the dignitaries from home and abroad ; 
men who bore the insignia of success ; men who had fought 


IO 


BERA. 


their way from the wooden benches of the district school to 
honorable positions ; men who arise and declare, “ could we 
have had these advantages, these books, these professors, 
these college halls, ’ ’ until the listening graduate imagines that 
for him the battle is already won, before he has entered the 
conflict, simply because he is well armed. 

To the right sit the band of men who have been moulding 
and impressing these active minds with truths, new and old, 
who in their different ways are sending forth their ideas in 
these young men, who in their turn scatter them broadcast. 
What strength and purpose should inspire the men at the 
head of our institutions of learning, for the ever-widening 
circle of their influence is immeasurable ! 

To the left are the actors in the day’s pleasant scenes. 
From among them come, one by one, those who, by resolute 
work or superior talent, have gained the right to be heard. 
Among them none so riveted the attention as Greek Lyle, 
who handled his chosen theme, “ Language,” with consum- 
mate skill. With plain, concise argument he fought, step by 
step, the tendency in many colleges to strike the ancient 
languages from their curriculum. Electric sparks of our 
language would thus be lost. From the Greek we learn of 
pure fervor and passion ; from the Latin, the severe and 
strong. To understand the English language without them 
was as vain as the dreams of alchemists of old. 

Applause and flowers greeted the young speaker, at the 
conclusion, while tears gathered in Bera Hull’s eyes, and her 
heart murmured, “ And he is mine ! my king !” 

“ And verily thou shalt be fed !” Over the vast audience 
the words rang out, thrilling the most thoughtless with the 


GREEK. 


II 


intense meaning conveyed by the earnest words of the Regent. 
‘ ‘ In the literary field, in the commercial circle, in the politi- 
cal arena, in the social life, right and truth should prevail. 
Manhood, untainted in its perfection, was needed ; and to 
those of unswerving devotion the world held bounteous stores 
of moral, intellectual food.” With these words of warning 
and advice the Regent presented the diplomas, and then with 
a grand crash of music, the day, with its welcomes, farewells, 
music, and flowers, was over, and another class had gone forth 
to match brains with brains, to determine the stronger man. 
And some will win while others fail ! 

As the audience poured slowly forth, Greek found himself 
entangled by numerous friends, who congratulated him warm- 
ly, but whose flattering words were unheeded, for below he 
saw the sweet face of Bera, and as soon as possible, he dis- 
engaged himself, and hastened to her side. 

A rosy flush crept into her cheeks as she put out her 
hand. 

“Accept my congratulations, if it is necessary for me to 
speak,” she said, quietly. 

“ The appreciation in your face was enough. Bera, must 
I go without one word ?’ ’ 

“ Be merciful, and do not tempt me. Remember, we are 
under bonds.” 

“ And, perforce, they must be observed ; so it is as well 
the Judge is coming, or I could not promise for myself,” 
and Greek turned to speak with Judge Hull. 

Other gentlemen came up, and a few more hurried words, 
a clasp of the hand, a happy memory, was all that was left 
to Bera. 


12 


BERA. 


That night Judge Hull, as Bera was leaving him, put 
something into her hand, saying, “ Wear it, daughter.” 

A plain gold ring lay in her hand, inside the simple word, 
“Waiting.” 

In true sympathy with the young lovers, Judge Hull had 
been able to retain this one love token, and his reward was 
in the quiet happiness of his daughter’s face, as she silently 
stole away, that in the privacy of her own room none might 
see the radiant love, as she pressed the ring to her lips, mur- 
muring passionately, “ Waiting.” 


CHAPTER III. 

A STEP IN THE DARK. 

To Bera had come a feverish unrest. Where she had 
gravely followed the outline given by her father, she now 
passed his greatest requirements, and entered a wider field of 
reading and study, determined to become worthy of the one 
who had gone over the seas. While her father encouraged 
and directed, he had grown to watching her anxiously. 

“ Can you sew, Bera ?” he asked, one morning, abruptly. 

Bera looked surprised. “ Why, no, father, you have taught 
me every thing I know, so how could I ?” 

“ How could you, indeed, with only your unwise old father 
to direct you. I have been but a negligent guide for my 
baby, after all,” and Judge Hull sighed. 


A STEP IN THE DARK. 13 

Bera looked up piteously, for this was the first token of 
weakness she had ever seen in her father. 

“ Don’t grieve, child,” he said, quietly, “ we must change 
all this before Greek returns. You must have a thorough 
training in woman’s work ; every woman should.” 

Bera flushed brightly. 

“ I hardly know how to arrange it,” he pursued, helplessly ; 
” if I could place you under the care of some lady for a 
year.” 

‘‘ Oh ! father, I could not leave you and my dear, dear 
home ; any thing but that,” and Bera drew closer to her 
father. 

“ There, there, I will think about it, and we will find some 
way and he kissed the upturned face of the girl, who was 
more of a problem now than was the helpless babe years be- 
fore, and his lip trembled in memory of the lost mother. 

While he sat lost in thought, Bera stole silently away in 
search of Margary, the housekeeper, who had come to the 
mansion with its young mistress. Her face brightened at the 
sight of Bera, and she moved the basket of crimson fruit to 
give her a seat. 

“How now, Miss Bera,” she said, cheerily; ‘‘can the 
books spare the lassie to come and say a word to her old 
nurse ?” 

Bera seated herself. ‘ ‘ They mean to spare me often now, 
nurse, while I come here for you to teach me the wonderful 
things you are doing,” and Bera nodded towards the pastry 
that Margary never trusted to another. 

Margary stopped short with her work, and ejaculated : 
“ You learn to work ? Not so long as old Margary’ s alive !” 


14 


BERA. 


“ But, Margary — 

“ Not one word,” exclaimed the woman, stoutly. “ Miss 
Alise’s baby working ! Just see your hands, they would look 
well in flour.” 

Bera held up her slender white hands. ‘ ‘ But they are 
strong, Margary, and I must learn.” 

Margary paused in her work once more, and with a few 
swift movements cleansed her hands, and, catching Bera in 
her arms, bore her through the halls to the library, and, open- 
ing the door, put her gently down, with an emphatic 
“ there,” and retreated. 

Judge Hull looked up surprised. ‘ ‘ What is the matter, 
daughter ?” he asked. 

“I have been asking Margary to show me how to work,” 
she answered, laughing vexedly, as -she shook out her dis- 
ordered dress. 

“ I could have foretold the result of that,” he answered, 
smiling; “but we will outwit her yet.” And, though he 
spoke cheerfully, as Bera turned to her desk his face grew 
graver, for he fully realized how illy prepared she was for life 
in its practical form. 

The frost had whitened the earth as the weeks passed, en- 
livened by letters from Greek, who wrote from the German 
university, where he was settled hard at work. 

Judge Hull had been absent from St. Aubern a week and 
a day, and Bera, who had never been separated from him so 
long, was fretting over his absence. She had heard of his 
safe arrival, and of the dying friend who had sent for him, 
that he might leave wife and children in safe hands ; and he 


A STEP IN THE DARK. 15 

had gone, for the sake of the old-time friendship, to accept 
the trust. • 

Bera had been moving restlessly through the house, but 
paused to listen, as the sound of wheels crisped on the gravel 
and then stopped. 

“ At last, at last,” she exclaimed, as she sprang gleefully 
to the door. 

There she stopped ; for on the steps below Judge Hull was 
helping a lady to alight. As he turned to give some orders, 
the lady glanced curiously at the house, but, on seeing Bera, 
drew back, and took Judge Hull’s arm, and he advanced 
with her up the steps. 

Bera, accustomed to do the honors of the house, came 
quietly forward. 

For one moment Judge Hull hesitated, then, taking Bera’s 
hand, he placed it in the lady’s, saying, ‘‘I have brought you 
the mother you have needed so long, daughter ; bid her wel- 
come to her new home.” 

Bera whitened to the lips, and stood as stunned by a blow, 
looking into the eyes of the lady, that darkened a deeper 
black as they looked steadily at the girl. 

“ Poor child, how frightened she is,” she remarked sweet- 
ly ; ” will you not kiss me, dear ?” and she leaned towards 
her. 

“No, no, no !” gasped Bera, “ you burn me,” and she 
sprang to her father. 

“ Bera, daughter !” exclaimed Judge Hull, clasping the 
shivering girl closely. 

Mrs. Hull turned away sorrowfully ; “ I fear she will never 
love me, ’ ’ she said. 


1 6 


BERA. 


Bera, safe in the shelter of her father’s arms, once more 
looked into the remorseless eyes of the handsome woman be- 
fore her, and they quailed under the questioning earnestness 
of the perfect truth that shone in their azure depths. 

Mrs. Hull turned quickly : “ I will leave her to you, dear ; 
teach her to love and trust me a little,” and she glided away. 

Bera was quiet now, and, encircling her father’s neck, she 
whispered : “ Forgive me, father, and I will never grieve 
you again.” 

Gently he stroked her hair, as he told her how he had 
found his new wife in the home of his dying friend, and 
recognized in her an old schoolmate of the dead Alise. 

“ She was near to me then, and her interest in you, Alise’s 
child, together with Mrs. Mofferd’s urgent advice, induced 
me to bring her home to you, and you will not fail in being 
my own sweet daughter, and make it very pleasant for her, 
Bera?” 

‘‘.Yes, father,” and Bera lifted her face, and he kissed 
her tenderly. 

Men who have been wise all their lives are often fatally 
unwise in the choice of a second wife. But granting this to 
be true, that rare are the women who are worthy to become 
step-mothers, then may we find the reason of their failure. 


A VIPER HIDDEN. 


17 


CHAPTER IV. 

A VIPER HIDDEN. 

In a silent, yet none the less resolute way, Mrs. Hull as- 
sumed the entire control of all surroundings. To Bera’s 
timid request for lessons in housekeeping, she had answered 
lightly, “ Why should you ? Bera Hull’s hands need never 
be soiled by work,” and she touched Bera, as if to caress ; 
but her hands were cold as ice, and Bera shrank from them ; 
and did she imagine that in the darkening eyes there was a 
sudden gleam of hate ? If so, ’twas but for a moment, and 
Mrs. Hull continued : 

‘ ‘ I am all sufficient here, and when you marry, it will be in 
a family of wealth, so there is no need of your learning. Go 
back to your books, and do not ask me to inflict upon my- 
self the trouble of teaching you a science that you will never 
use.” 

And thus the subject was dismissed, and the days were 
much the same, for the lessons went on, as usual, in the 
library, where Mrs. Hull seldom entered. She preferred to 
begin her work away from the penetrating eye of her husband. 

The first result was apparent in all the old servants leaving. 
Margary was the last to go. 

“ Indeed, Miss Bera, but I can’t stand it any longer, and 
I must go, ’ ’ she said to Bera, when she had determined to 
go- 

‘ ‘ What is the matter, Margary ?’ ’ 


BERA. 


18 


The woman looked puzzled. “ I can’t tell what is the 
trouble, only I see it and feel it all ’round ; there is nothing 
I can put my hand on but it is there all the same. ’ ’ 

“ Where will you go ?” asked Bera, troubled by a nameless 
fear ; “ are you going out again ?” 

“No, Miss Bera, I never could learn new ways. I have 
plenty laid by, and my father left me a bit of a cottage down 
at Brickford, and it’s there I am going, Miss Bera,’’ and her 
voice fell to a whisper, and pointing mysteriously outwards, 
‘ ‘ when she turns you out, come to me, and I will take care 
of you.” 

“ Hush,’’ said Bera, gently, “remember of whom you are 
speaking. She is too much of a lady to do me harm.’’ 

“ Maybe, Miss Bera, maybe ; but remember what I said,’’ 
and with tears in her eyes the faithful creature withdrew. 

Very plausible did Mrs. Hull make the withdrawal of the 
old servants appear when the Judge remonstrated. “ They 
had been so long without control they considered themselves 
the mistress,’’ she said. And did Judge Hull dream that all 
was well ? 

Instinctively both he and Bera refrained from speaking of 
Greek before her, and his letters were a strong tie between 
father and daughter. 

All winter Judge Hull seemed to be failing, and now, in 
the early spring, he lay all day on a divan, watching Bera, 
as she read to him or attended to his wants. No word had 
been spoken of the fear that was brooding over them. Mrs. 
Hull offered to relieve Bera, but he begged to have her stay, 
and with an evil gleam in the black eyes she went out from 
them. 


A VIPER HIDDEN. 19 

One evening, after a day of great suffering, the Judge 
turned to Bera : “ Come nearer daughter.” 

Bera took the hands that were weaker now than hers, and 
caressed them gently. 

“ Bera, do you know that I am dying ?” 

“ Father,” and Bera burst into an agony of tears, “ you 
must not leave me ; let me make you well,” and she covered 
his hands with kisses. 

“It is hard to leave you, darling; but when I am gone 
send for Greek, you will need him, and, Bera, tell him — ” 
the words died away, and the Judge sank back unconscious. 

Bera uttered a piercing shriek that brought help, and soon 
a doctor was working over him, but gave his opinion that he 
would not live till morning. 

Mrs. Hull, with blanched lips, stood over him, having sent 
Bera from the room, and the announcement caused her pallor 
to deepen. 

“ Will he be conscious ?” she asked, nervously. 

‘ ‘ I think so, but cannot tell, * * the doctor answered. 

Midnight came, and the dying man aroused suddenly. 

“ Where is Bera ?” he asked. 

“ The poor child is worn out, and has gone to her room,” 
Mrs. Hull said. 

“ Bera, Bera,” murmured the Judge, longingly. 

“ She is sleeping ; it is not best to call her,” urged Mrs. 
Hull, and with that falsehood on her lips, stooped and kissed 
the pallid brow, while in the hall without Bera crouched, and 
begged to see her father. 

Judge Hull moved. “ I have not made — my — will, send 
for a lawyer, Agnes ; I am going fast. 


20 


BERA. 


A flash of triumph, mingled with a sinister expression, flit- 
ted over Mrs. Hull’s face as she left the room. 

After Judge Hull was taken sick a new servant had been 
introduced, who, with his artful face, had glided into his 
place, and evidently stood high in favor with his mistress. 
To this servant Mrs! Hull gave a low, hurried order, and he 
nodded knowingly, and went out. 

“ I sent for the nearest lawyer ; was that right ?” murmured 
Mrs. Hull. The Judge assented. An hour later Bera cast 
off the detaining hand of a servant, and springing to the door, 
tried it gently, fearing to find it locked. It yielded to her 
touch, and she stood looking upon the occupants. The law- 
yer and Mrs. Hull were standing by the dying man, who was 
tracing his name feebly on a legal paper. 

* ‘ That is as I would have it, ’ ’ he said, and then they laid 
him back, an ashy look spreading over his face. 

“ Bera, my baby — ” the last strength of his life went out 
to his darling in that yearning cry. 

Bera sprang forward, and bent low over him ; the lips tried 
to frame words, but failed, and curved .into a smile as Bera 
pressed her lips to his — then he was dead. 

In him, bereft of father and mother at one blow, Bera 
moaned passionately, then turned and groped her way from 
the room. 

The man-servant and Mrs. Hull’s maid acted as witnesses, 
and when the paper was folded and sealed they all with- 
drew. 

At the grave Mrs. Hull gently supported Bera, and the 
people said, ‘ ‘ He did well to leave her a mother. ’ ’ 

To Bera all was a blank, save the yawning grave and the 


A VIPER UNMASKED. 


21 


black, lonely coffin. Dumbly she allowed herself to be led 
away, and once at home crept to her room, and with dry, 
burning eyes, knelt by the window, looking out to where the 
new-made grave was lying. 

Shortly after, the door was rudely opened, and Mrs. Hull’s 
maid entered, and stood looking curiously at Bera. 

Bera rose to her feet. “ You forget yourself,” she said, 
haughtily pointing to the door. 

The girl smiled insolently, and in one swift moment Bera 
knew that her old position was gone, and by whom it had 
been taken. As the truth burst upon her, she stood help- 
lessly before the girl, who, with a latent pity for her suffering, 
left the room, remarking, “ Mrs. Hull wants you in her room 
in an hour,” muttering, under her breath, “ an’ you’ll get 
no mercy there. ’ ’ 


CHAPTER Y. 

A VIPER UNMASKED. 

• 

An hour later, Bera brushed back the glossy hair from 
her colorless face, and went out and down the long hall to 
her step-mother’s room. The door stood open, and she en- 
tered and waited expectantly. Mrs. Hull glanced up coldly, 
and motioned to a chair. Instead, Bera passed over by the 
window that overlooked the lawn, her clear, truthful eyes 
resting full upon Mrs. Hull, who started from her chair, her 
generally imperturbed face turned to a livid hue, her hand 
raised and clenched until the purple veins were distorted, 


22 


BERA. 


and went slowly towards Bera, who stood in terrible fascina- 
tion, looking upon the first evil that had ever come near her 
life, its hideous pall, black and dismal, settling about her. 
Unable to bear the horror of this new knowledge, she turned 
to the window and awaited the expected blow, the perfume 
and beauty without in strange discord with the scene within. 

Mrs. Hull dropped her hand with a short laugh. “ It is 
well you took your mother’s eyes from my face, else I should 
not be answerable for the consequences. Now listen, for I 
have a story to tell you — one that I never told to another — 
only keep those eyes from me if you would make me less 
hard. Years ago, in a far western State, lived a man whom 
nature decreed should be my father. I was the eldest of a 
constantly increasing family, and our mother an invalid. We 
were poor — so poor that, as far back as I can remember, I 
was the only nurse, cook, and maid-of-all-work. And still 
the children came every year, making us a little poorer, and 
the mother a little weaker, dying more cruelly than if the 
man who called her wife had planted a knife in her weary 
heart. With an insight prematurely sharpened by my sur- 
roundings, I understood that she was being killed, and my 
love for her is the one fair memory in my dark life. While 
still very young, I began to crave knowledge, and with deter- 
mined effort, while at the household tasks, I learned from my 
mother’s lips, as she lay wearily in her large chair, what I 
could of a higher, wider life. Sometimes I begged for books, 
and was answered by the man I called father, whiningly, 

‘ How could I expect such luxuries when he had such an 
expens-u-ve family,’ until I began to believe that we were to 
blame for ever daring to tread the footboards of life, when 


A VIPER UNMASKED. 


2 3 


he, to whom we owed our existence, blamed us for coming. 
What wonder was it that I grew to hate my father, for what 
right had he to bring children into the world, to helpless 
misery, dooming us to carping, hateful poverty ? I thought 
it all out then, and still think the same, though I have read 
wise treatises from learned sages on the evils of the decrease 
of population. Had they been born, and lived as I did, they 
would agree with me that there is no greater sin than bring- 
ing into life more souls than a man has the capability of car- 
ing for. I never think of those days but what, in the name 
of justice, I feel like murder. At last there were ten of us, 
and I just fifteen, and my mother — worn out, body, mind, 
and soul — died, and, ‘ The Lord gave, and the Lord taketh 
away,’ the man said, who dared in his blasphemy lay the 
blame on the Lord. The last link was gone that bound me 
to my horrible life, and the night after she was buried I 
hushed the baby to rest, and leaving it by the author of its 4 
being, I gathered my little all and crept away, and to this 
day I have never known aught of them. I changed my name, 
and with only my hands between me and starvation, worked 
my way East. In a somewhat populous town I met with a 
lady who was sharp enough to see my energy, and took me, 

I choosing two hours a day in the school-room for payment. 
Even with that I rapidly distanced more favored scholars, 
and was soon well grounded in the common branches. At 
this time, by a fortunate accident, a gentleman saw me, and 
liking my thoroughness, took me home with him to the city, 
as a companion to his daughter. Lillian Beasley was one of 
the most perfect creatures I ever saw. Her beauty was mar- 
vellous, and every opportunity for culture and development 


24 


BERA. 


had been hers. But, with an inborn bitterness against fate, 
that gave all to her and none to me, I hated her for her good 
fortune, but wisely determined to profit by her frailty, for 
Lillian was luxuriantly indolent. Soon it came to be a mat- 
ter of course that I wrote the French and German exercises, 
and the private tutors were well pleased to turn to me for 
quick, intelligent replies, while Lillian vainly thought. I 
gloried in thus defrauding her, and accepted Mr. Beasley’s 
warm thanks for keeping his daughter at work, while my 
hands were the ones that patiently went over and over the 
difficult music, while Lillian lounged with her novel. Three 
years I lived there, carefully husbanding my liberal wages ; 
then I selected a school where I could complete a thorough 
course in two years, and went my way, bearing Mr. Beasley’s 
thanks for my efforts to arouse his daughter from her indolent 
habits. I heard of them once afterwards. A sudden panic 
swept away his fortune, and, stricken with disease, he turned 
for support to his daughter, who, grovelling at his feet, told 
him how in all those years, when he had thought her amassing 
a fortune in culture, she had been robbed — and I had her 
education. With a curse on his lips for me, they turned to 
desolate poverty, bearing their fate as best they could, while 
Lillian bent over her ill-paid work, her beauty gone, and no 
hope in life but death. At the large and thorough school I 
had chosen I was a stranger — my past unknown — and now, 
for the first time, I allowed myself to have frends, for what 
I had saved would not last many months after graduation, 
and I had no intention of returning to servile life. After a 
keen analysis of those surrounding me, I chose Alise Hilbert, 
your mother, as best suited for my purpose. And she, with 


A VIPER UNMASKED. 


25 


her great innocent eyes, believed in me, and gave me freely 
of her love, and could any thing have taken the bitterness 
from my life, her sweet faith would ; but I was past the time 
for that, so I allowed her to revere my strange beauty and 
strength, and gave her nothing in return. During the vaca- 
tions I was welcomed at the home of Alise’ s guardian as 
only her friend could be. At last we graduated, and how I 
exulted to bear away the honors from the favorites of fortune, 
and to see them, in their weakness, weep feeble tears at their 
failure ! I was to remain a few months with Alise, so together 
we went, and life in the form for which I had longed came to 
me. On those days I staked my all, to win a life of ease or 
go back to toil. Among those who came and went was one 
whom I said should be mine. Already past young life, his 
position made him a target for all, and I entered the lists de- 
termined to win, for in all that merry crowd none could boast 
of such a form, face, and talent as I. Steadily I* went for- 
ward, rendered more tenacious by the fact I loved — madly 
loved, for the first and only time in my life. Waywardly I 
gave myself to the strong bonds of my passion, loving him 
with all the idolatry of a warped, sunless life. And he failed 
me ! For one night Alise whispered the sweet secret in her 
shy, gentle way, that he loved her. Yes ; she had stolen my 
love, and in my fierce hate I could have killed her ; she, who 
had every thing, had taken my all, and I hated her — yes, and 
I hate you!” And Mrs. Hull buried her fingers in Bera’s 
arm; she grew still whiter, but not a sound escaped her lips. 

“ They were married, I acting as bridesmaid, that my hurt 
might not be known ; then I went out by myself — for I could 
not stay and see their happiness — bitter, bitter, against all 


26 


JBERA. 


the world. Years had gone by when I heard that Alise was 
dead, and I had not known. But now my turn had come ; 
I was a handsome, well-preserved woman, and knowing how 
few men can resist the personal attention of a woman, I de- 
termined, for a second time, to marry Judge Hull. He did 
not know that it was I who sent in such haste for him to 
come to his dying friend. He came, and I was recognized 
as the old friend of Alise, who had disappeared so suddenly. 
But what was my humiliation to find that there was but one 
way to his name — his heart I no longer cared for — and that 
was through the daughter, whom he loved best, as he once 
did the mother. But now the humility is past, and I am the 
victor, and you — because you are Alise Hilbert’s child, and 
his — I hate you !” 

A low moan broke from Bera’s -lips. 

“ Ay, suffer ; and more, for you should know that your 
father left a will — you saw him sign it — in which he left all to 
me, all that he had, and in that all that your mother brought 
him ; and now, because you are his child and hers, I shall 
turn you from my doors to work, to toil, as I have worked and 
toiled, save that you know not how, and it will be harder 
for you ; and if Alise has power to know, may she suffer 
with her child. ’ ' 

Mrs. Hull ceased, and the minutes passed, but Bera did 
not move. 

“ Would you see the will in which your father showed his 
great love for you ?” asked Mrs. Hull, with a sneer. 

“ Hush !” cried Bera, turning upon her in agony, “ if 
he left it all to you, it was because he trusted you. But if I 
should appeal to the law ?’ ’ 


A VIPER UNMASKED. 


27 


Mrs. Hull smiled. “You will not. Your Hull pride 
would be sorely rent to have come out who bears the grand 
old name.” 

“ You are right,” answered Bera, gravely ; “ spare my 
father’s name, and the rest may go. When must I leave ?” 

“ To-night,” returned Mrs. Hull, briefly. 

Nervously Bera closed her hands before her, then turning, 
quietly left the room. 

Stricken and dazed she went to the library, and locking 
the door turned to her desk. In all the world she was alone, 
save one, and to him she wrote a few incoherent lines, in 
which Greek would learn that she was alone and homeless, 
her only shelter Margary’s cottage. Then Bera took the 
keys and locked her own and her father’s desk, and with one 
long look at the dear old room, passed out. An hour later, 
Mrs. Hull had her trunk taken to the depot, while Bera went 
to the new gardener. 

“ Some of your roses, Mark,” she said, “the white ones.” 

The gardener looked at her curiously, as he gathered and 
gave them to her. 

“ Thanks,” she said, and turned away. As the train for 
the South left that night, a young girl, with vail closely 
drawn, leaned wearily back in her seat, while a new-made 
grave, fast being left behind, was covered with white roses. 


28 


BERA. 


CHAPTER VI. 

HOMELESS. 

Bera had turned instinctively to the only shelter that 
seemed open to her — the home of old Margary. To no one 
else would she go, for her father’s name was in her keeping, 
and no one must know who was reigning in the old Hull 
mansion. There were few who would miss her, for the ex- 
clusiveness of her life would render her disappearance hardly 
noticeable, and her step-mother’s tact would cover all traces. 

Margary was an early riser, and when the stage rumbled 
in, she went to the door to watch it go by, ere seating herself 
to partake of her solitary meal. But this morning it did not 
pass as usual, but stopping, a black-robed figure was helped 
out, and came up the walk, the white, wan face set and 
weary. 

“ Miss Bera !” exclaimed Margary, and in a moment Bera 
was sobbing on her shoulder. 

“ There, poor baby, cry on ; Margary knew it would come, 
but you are safe now,” and the woman’s eyes were full of 
tears, in sympathy with the desolate girl. 

Humble though the shelter was, it was a safe one, for Mar- 
gary was a shrewd, whole-souled woman, and soon Bera lay 
in a darkened room, her throbbing head on the soft pillow. 

Many days she lay there, then Margary put her in a large 
chair, and Bera looked up gravely. 


HOMELESS. 


2 9 


“ I am getting well, Margary.” 

“Yes, Miss Bera,” returned Margary, smiling cheerfully. 

“ Margary, when I am well, I must go to work for myself,” 
she said, by and by, as she lay thinking. 

“ Go out into the world alone ? No, Miss Bera, it is no 
place for you. You must stay here until Mr. Lyle comes,” 
and she looked furtively at Bera. 

The color crept into her cheeks, then faded out as swiftly, 
and the old woman sighed, for her trust in man was not 
strong, and she feared for Bera if her faith proved vain. 

But one evening, after long, weary weeks, when Bera had 
grown strong enough to creep out into the yard, there was a 
quick, firm step on the walk, and with a low cry she was 
sheltered in the strong arms of Greek Lyle. 

Under the swaying vines in the waving moonlight, Greek 
talked long and earnestly, pleading for the right to protect 
her always. 

“You must say yes,” he urged, “ for I can never leave you 
again.” 

“ But we are both so young, Greek — just think ; you will 
have two to work for, because you have never taken care of 
yourself even, * * and Bera looked at him gravely. 

“ I know,” answered Greek, “ but it is time I was at work, 
and in that work I want your love and help.” 

“ But it seems so cowardly to shrink from taking care of 
myself, for a time, at least,” returned Bera, timidly ; “ but, 
Greek, if there are many like her out in the world, I am 
afraid,” and she shuddered. 

“ There could hardly be such another one,” Greek an- 
swered hotly. “ Bera give me permission to make it lively 


3 ° 


BERA. 


for her? To think she dared treat my darling as she 
did.” 

“ We must keep the trust of my father’s honor,” and the 
sweet face turned to Greek, and her hand crept into his. 

‘ ‘ I will agree to the compact, if you will give the name 
and the owner into my keeping,” and Greek clasped the lit- 
tle hand. 

How well he succeeded was best told by the two figures 
who stood the next morning at the chancel rail of the village 
church, and pledged their lives one to the other. 

There were no flowers, no music, no joyous greetings, and 
there were tears in the eyes of the black-robed bride. 

When the stage came in, Margary watched them down the 
walk, and a sigh broke from her lips, for she knew that at 
the best there were many trials in store for the girl-wife. 

But Greek, by the side of his chosen love, looked serenely 
into the future. At Waymouth they took the train for one 
of the Middle States, and as they sped swiftly from the old 
home, Bera’s thoughts were with the new. 

“ Greek,” timidly touching him, “ do your father and 
mother know we are coming ?’ ’ 

Yes, by this time ; I telegraphed them from Waymouth. 
They did not know of my return, so it all went as a double 
surprise,” and he laughed pleasantly. 

‘ ‘ Perhaps they may not like our marriage, ’ ’ said Bera, 
fearfully. 

“ Do not trouble your pretty head about that,” Greek an- 
swered lightly. “ They have always trusted me completely, 
and they cannot help loving my wife, and you will love them, 
for I have a good father and mother, ’ ’ and Greek smiled into 


IN A STRANGE LAND. 


31 


the anxious face, and Bera, satisfied, nestled down at his side, 
and her lips curved into a sweet smile when she thought of 
her great possession. 

To one accustomed, as Bera had been, to tender treatment, 
the severity of the buffeting of the last few months had left 
its impress on the face that had never known sorrow. Her 
beauty was not decisive in its style ; but her face was one 
that, meeting her in a crowd, people turned for another look, 
and the face would haunt them. 

There are faces that make the world worse as they pass, 
and there are others that leave the world purer and better for 
having seen them. 


CHAPTER VII. 

IN A STRANGE LAND. 

The first gray morning light had faded, and the whirling, 
sombre clouds cast dismal shadows on the rows of drooping 
elms that encircled Greek Lyle’s old home. On every hand 
was stern, uncompromising thrift. The elms were the only 
adornment, and the rigorous rows spoke more of duty than 
beauty. The house, plain to severity, was scrupulously well 
painted, and the door-yard, where strayed a few decorous 
fowls, was as neat as wax. Inside, the same unbending rule 
was evident, from the exact, ample rooms, to the old couple 
drawn with rigid propriety beside the glowing grate, where 
the clean, wholesome wood burned with stated precision. In 
none of their descendants had the Puritan forefathers left so 


32 


BERA. 


exact a counterpart of their stern, upright character, as in 
Deacon Lyle and his wife, Prudence. Starting in life with 
thrift their only capital, strict economy had slowly accumu- 
lated a handsome fortune, and now, in the knowledge of their 
goodly possessions, still dealing strictly with life, they were 
waiting the end. 

There were three children, two daughters and the beloved 
boy, Greek. The daughters had gone from the home long 
ago, well taught in thrift and economy. 

But for the baby boy, who came late in life, the path had 
been made very smooth indeed ; for if pride was allowed in 
Deacon Lyle’s heart, he was proud of his boy, who was to 
hand the good old English name down to future generations. 
In one corner of his secretary were rolls of genealogical data, 
waiting to be transmitted to Greek. 

As the boy grew in years, they were pleased that his taste 
turned to books, and he was given every chance without stint. 
But the old-time training was strictly enforced, and when 
Greek went to college he was free from the taints that mar 
perfect manhood, and with no wish to engraft them, he had 
found a safe shelter with Judge Hull. 

On this morning the sharp ring of the door bell aroused 
Deacon Lyle and his wife ; and Mrs. Lyle, carefully laying 
her knitting at a right angle, went to the door. 

A boy standing there thrust the well-known bearer of joy 
or sorrow, a yellow missive, into her hand and vanished. 

With an uneven step she returned to the room, and sank 
into her chair, staring at the little slip. 

“ What is it ?” she asked, fearfully, reaching it out to the 
Deacon. 


IN A STRANGE ZAND. 33 

Deacon Lyle tore it open, and slowly adjusting his glasses, 
read — 

“ Expect me to-night, with my wife. 

“ Greek Lyle.” 

“ Greek with his wife !” gasped Mrs. Lyle, and grasping 
the message reread the words. 

There was no mistake ; Greek was surely coming, and the 
mother’s heart gave a throb of joy, quickly giving place to 
perplexity, when she thought of the mystery with him. 

Laid away among other plans for the future was one now 
rendered hopeless. 

Rich Squire Kenney had six daughters, each possessing in 
their own right twenty thousand. Zona Kenney, the young- 
est, had long been destined to be Greek’s wife, albeit she 
was plain, and unmistakably devoid of intelligence ; but 
what matter, when her dot was twenty thousand dollars, and 
she a thrifty housekeeper. 

But Greek was supplied with a wife, and various were the 
speculations concerning her. 

“ Perhaps she is one of the nobility,” hazarded Mrs. Lyle, 
as she stirred briskly around, rubbing the clean furniture 
cleaner, and polishing where it was too bright to polish ; 
‘ ‘ but then they are most always poor, ’ ’ and she sighed, as she 
thought of Zona’s thousands. 

Mrs. Lyle was one who never believed that any thing was 
done until her own hands had gone over it, so servants were 
an encumbrance invented to waste and destroy. So, unaided, 
she performed the daily work with such order and exactness 
that would shame younger housekeepers. 


34 


BERA. 


At last every thing was in rigid rows, and, knitting in hand, 
Mrs. Lyle waited for Greek and his wife. 

As the train came in Bera clung nervously to Greek, who 
tried to reassure her as he helped her from the cars. 

An upright, stern-looking old gentleman came forward, 
and put both hands into Greek’s, and the unbending lips grew 
tremulous, as the glad, silent greeting passed between them. 

Bera felt drawn to one who so loved Greek, and as he 
turned and presented Bera to his father, she gladly went to 
the arms held out to her. In a moment, as if the emotion 
were unlawful, Deacon Lyle put her from him, and turned to 
Greek. 

“ Well, well ; now for home and mother, my boy.” 

** Wait one moment, and I will get a carriage,” returned 
Greek. 

Deacon Lyle looked his displeasure. 

‘ ‘ What, not able to walk a dozen blocks, and the hack 
fare is raised, too !” 

“ But Bera is not strong, father,” returned Greek, gently. 

“ Oh, let me walk, I am sure I can !” exclaimed Bera, 
sensitively. 

” Well,” said Greek, reluctantly, “ if you will ; but I fear 
it is too far.” 

But finally the walk was ended, and Greek’s mother was 
clinging to him, tears running down her cheeks. 

” My boy, my boy ! and have I lost you,” she sobbed. 

“ Mother, please don’t,” Greek exclaimed, distressed for 
Bera ; “ give your new daughter a welcome, ” and untwining 
her arms, led her to Bera, for whom this trying scene was 
almost too much. 


IN A STRANGE LAND . 


35 


She touched the cheek given her, then sank into a chair, 
feeling that in one shrewd glance an inventory had been 
taken, and she was found wanting where she had so hoped to 
please. 

Mrs. Lyle turned from her, and to her husband, and ut- 
tered the one word, “ Poor.” 

Low as it was said, it reached Bera’s painfully acute ear, 
and turning to Greek she laid her head on his shoulder, and 
sob after sob broke from her full heart. 

Greek vainly endeavored to soothe her, while Mrs. Lyle 
looked on disapprovingly. 

‘ ‘ Does she have such spells often ? * ’ she asked. 

” She is worn out, mother,” said Greek, quietly ; ** may I 
lay her here ? ” and without waiting for permission he laid 
Bera on the lounge. 

“ Wait !” exclaimed Mrs. Lyle, “ her shoes are wet,” and 
she catched up a paper, looked at it a moment, to see if it 
were worthless, and spread it carefully on the lounge. 

” The express has come, Greek,” Deacon Lyle announced, 
and Greek bent and kissed Bera’s flushed cheek, then left 
the room. 

Mrs. Lyle seated herself and scanned Bera over her glasses. 

” So you are Greek’s wife ?” she observed. 

Bera put up her hand to shield her face. 

** How old are you ?” 

“ Nearly eighteen,” returned Bera, trying to quiet her 
voice. 

“ Ah !” and Greek twenty-one ; two babies and the 
knitting needles clicked rapidly. 

“ Where is your mother ?” 




BERA . 


The ready tears sprang to Bera’s eyes. 

“ Dead ?” interrogated Mrs. Lyle. 

Bera nodded. 

44 And your father ?” 

Bera gasped for breath — “ Dead.” 

Mrs. Lyle softened, and asked more gently . 

44 How long has he been dead ?” 

“ He died last June,” and Bera’s lips quivered. 

* ‘ Who was he ?’ ’ 

44 Judge Hull was my father ; perhaps you have heard 
Greek speak of him.” 

44 Judge Hull ! Why, he was rich ; he would have given 
his daughter better clothes than you have. ’ ’ 

Bera looked down at the plain and rather worn black 
dress. 

44 My father dressed me well but plainly, for I never cared 
for dress like other girls ; but when my step-mother came 
he left it to her, and I got very shabby.” 

44 Your step-mother I Did you not get his money ?” 

Bera arose from the lounge, a quick sense of pride repel- 
ling this catechism. 

44 Greek will tell you all about me ; could I go to my room 
now ?” 

44 To my son’s room? Yes,” returned Mrs. Lyle, con- 
cisely, and rising she led the way to the stairs. 

44 At the right ; two doors and Bera, glad to escape, 
hastened up. 

The guest chamber had been warmed and aired, in view 
of Greek’s wife belonging to the nobility, but proving other- 
wise, Greek’s old room was to do service. It mattered little 


GREEK 1 S MISTAKE. 37 

to Bera, so she was alone, and moving up and down the 
room she moaned, “ Father, father.” 

By and by, as she grew calmer, she heard Greek’s voice 
saying cheerily : “ Where is my wife, mother ?” 

“ Gone to your room ; let her alone for a while, and give 
mother a little of your time.” 

“ Certainly, mother ; what will you ?” and Greek seated 
himself expectantly. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

GREEK’ S MISTAKE. 

To the room above the voices came clearly, through an old 
grating that had been removed, and the place papered over ; 
and Bera was an unwilling listener to the conversation. 

Mrs. Lyle cleared her throat ominously. 

“ Tell me of your wife,” she said, briefly. 

Greek gave a rapid sketch of Bera’s life, dwelling on her 
youth and helpless condition, in his voice a thrill of entreaty 
for her whom he loved. 

As he concluded, Mrs. Lyle said, coldy : “It is as I 
feared ; I am truly sorry for you, my boy. ’ ' 

” Why, mother ?” Greek asked, surprised. 

“You have married a child, and a helpless burden ; she has 
nothing, nor have you. What are you to do ?” 

“I intend to work for my wife,” Greek answered 
proudly. 


38 


BERA. 


“ Work ! You and Mrs. Lyle looked at the shapely white 
hands. “ You may as well cast aside all romance and look at 
the truth, Greek. You have made a fatal mistake, and cannot 
expect us to pay for it. We are deeply grieved that you 
should have set aside our known wishes and married a beg- 
gar, when Zona Kenney, with her thousands, was yours for 
the asking.” 

“ Mother !” exclaimed Greek, “ compare my wife with 
that mistress of milk-pans and scouring soap ! ” 

‘‘You would have done better to have got a mistress of 
something, ” returned Mrs. Lyle shortly. ‘‘As it is, you 
cannot expect your father to overlook your folly and give 
his hard-earned money to be wasted. Had you married 
Zona, your father would have added as much more, but 
now — ’ ’ 

‘‘ But now,” Greek interrupted, ‘‘I am to be served as 
the man was in the parable : ‘ Unto every one that hath 
shall be given, but from him that hath not shall be taken even 
that which he hath.’ ” 

“ Do not think we are severe,” resumed Mrs. Lyle, not 
regarding what Greek had said. “ If you but think of our 
great disappointment — we worked hard to educate you, and 
you have made us this return, bringing a penniless wife for 
us to support.” 

A heavy fall in the room above startled them, and Greek 
sprang up the stairs to find Bera in a dead faint. 

His mother stood looking on, as he chafed her hands 
and brow, and remarked, ‘‘Weakly, too,” and went for 
water. 

Long before day an ominous stir in the house wakened 


GREEK'S MISTAKE. 


39 


Bera with a start. Worn out and weary, she lay, the rapid 
events of the last few days stirring her tired brain. In a 
moment the clatter of a loud-toned bell sounded in the hall 
below, and Bera turned to meet the anxious face of her 
husband. 

“Are you better, little wife, so you can get up to break- 
fast ?” 

“ I think so, Greek,” she said smiling. 

He hesitated. ‘ ‘ Mother does not like to wait, so I will go 
down, and you come as soon as you can,” and touching the 
wavy hair with his lips withdrew. 

A sweet sense of peace stole over Bera at his touch, and 
she arose and began a rapid toilet. The past was dim in the 
present thought of her great love. 

Very soon she went below, and timidly gave her morning 
greeting, but was met by a stiff silence. She looked ques- 
tioningly at Greek, who broke the awkward silence by 
placing a chair for Bera at the table. 

With much tact he opened the conversation, and there 
was a thaw, and the breakfast hour passed pleasantly to all 
but Bera, who felt that she had offended. 

As they arose from the table, the elongated, solemn look 
returned to Mrs. Lyle’s face, and Bera took shelter by Greek, 
who whispered softly : “ Help her, dear.” 

A sudden understanding came to Bera, and she turned, 
saying : “ Let me help you, mother.” 

If Mrs. Lyle was gratified, she did not betray it, but di- 
rected Bera in an unbending manner. The next hour she 
was initiated into the formula that was never diverged from 
in Mrs. Lyle’s exact house. Every article had its place in 


40 


BERA. 


one of the four receptacles, and the bewildered Bera was in- 
formed that “one telling was enough,” and she wondered 
how it was possible to remember ic all. The simple task of 
washing dishes ! Three waters entered into the merits of 
getting them clean, the first witn soap, then hot soft water, 
finally hot hard water. After Bera had carefully dried them 
on a scrupulously white fragment of a table-cloth, she was 
directed to take a linen towel and polish each one. Whep, 
at last, they stood in shining rows in the china-closet, Bera, 
more thoroughly wearied than she had ever been in her life, 
went in search of Greek. 

She found him by an ancient library case that loomed to 
the ceiling, looking over the old companions of his school- 
days, that had been placed there, one by one, as he had 
mastered, or fancied he had mastered, them. 

Bera stole to him, and laid her head on his arm. He looked 
down brightly : “ Are you through, Bera ? I am sorry you 
have it to do, but it will please mother.” 

“ Greek,” and Bera looked up puzzled, “ are your father 
and mother poor ?” 

Greek flushed. “ Not very, little wife, but it is their way ; 
bear it for my sake, darling.” 

“Yes, Greek,” but she sighed as she moved over to a 
window. Thought came quick and fast. She could not tell 
Greek that she knew how unwelcome she was to his home. 
He had given no sign that he was hurt. Did he call it “ their 
way, ’ ’ and mean to remain there ? Bera shivered, as she 
thought of the exact, weary round, day after day, that must 
never be hurried or shortened. 

‘ ‘ I shall lose all separate existence, ’ * she thought bitterly, 


GREEK'S MISTAKE. 


41 


“ my actions, my thoughts, my words, must conform to the 
house. I would soon become like that lounge cover, very 
useful, no doubt, but dreadfully short and scant ; or that 
carpet, dull and colorless,” and Bera tapped the harmless 
carpet with her foot, not knowing that, though devoid of 
beauty, it had been faithful many years, ever since Mrs. Lyle 
had bought it for half its cost, because of its ugliness. 

“ How can I endure, day after day, rigid lines and no 
beauty ; I know I should go mad, ’ * and Bera clenched her 
hands to drive back the tears that Greek might not see. 

Greek was troubled, but he kept it from Bera, while he was 
planning how to meet the unexpected results of his marriage. 
There was much sturdy strength in Greek Lyle’s character, 
but it had lain dormant under the well-fed life he had led, 
waiting to be aroused in its full power by the stern moulding 
and hammering that awaited him. 

A few visible good or bad habits does not constitute char- 
acter ; that must mean the whole inside of a man, the hid- 
den thoughts and feelings that find their way into acts and 
words. 


42 


BERA. 


CHAPTER IX. 

PRUNED. 

To Bera Mrs. Lyle was a revelation. Her own life had 
been spent without care, and accustomed to have the needful 
wants of life supplied in an unstinted, easy way, she looked 
with astonishment at the numberless little economies that 
seemed impossible for one to choose to perform. Her thoughts 
were busy as to the probable cause, and sagely concluded 
that Greek must be mistaken, and they were really poor. 
They had deceived Greek, so he would take a liberal educa- 
tion, while they deprived themselves in order to give it to 
him. With this for a reason her heart warmed towards them 
for the self-sacrifice, and she determined, so far as she could, 
to repay them, and cheerfully, day after day, went to the 
kitchen to assist. 

“ What can I do, mother ?” she asked one morning. 

Mrs. Lyle looked up : “ Get you an apron, child ; then you 
may prepare some beets for dinner ; you will find them in 
the well-room.” 

Bera put on an ample apron, and, in the course of fifteen 
minutes, returned with the beets all nicely pared and sliced. 

“ Will they do, mother ?” she asked. 

Mrs. Lyle gave one glance, and a horrified look spread 
over her face. 

“ Why, what do you know ; you have ruined them ; five 


PRUNED. 43 

beets, and worth two cents and a half a piece ! Such 
waste ! ” 

“ This is the way they come on the table,” Bera faltered. 

Mrs. Lyle looked at her contemptuously. 

“ Is that all you know about housework ?” 

“ My father meant I should learn, but my step-mother 
would not teach me, ’ ’ said Bera, flushing. 

“ I see,” returned Mrs. Lyle, “ he taught you nothing, 
and left you nothing, and then you deceived poor Greek. ’ ’ 

Bera made no answer. 

“ Can you sew ?” 

“ No,” answered Bera, forcing back the tears. 

‘ ‘ What do you know V * 

“ Nothing, I believe,” and she held herself strongly under 
control. 

Mrs. Lyle resumed her work with an impressive sigh. 

By and by Bera ventured to speak : ‘ ‘ But I want to learn, 
mother, so please give me something else, and I will do 
better.” 

” You will have to, or you will ruin us at this rate. You 
may pare the potatoes ; they don’t boil out all the good ;” 
and Bera, thankful to be partially forgiven, gave infinitesimal 
proportions to the parings, and, under Mrs. Lyle’s directions, 
laid the potatoes in clear water that the starch might be saved 
for the calicoes on Monday. 

Had Bera been prepared in the least for the change in her 
life, instead of trying to understand this new phase of exist- 
ence, she would have accepted it as a fact, .without reason, 
her sensitive nature being saved many pangs. To her — 
courtesy would have required that some little deference should 


44 


BERA. 


be paid to a new-comer ; for her the new surroundings 
should be smoothed, her tastes and wishes consulted in a 
manner. Had she known more of the world, and been 
quicker to read character, she would have understood that 
it was as impossible for Mrs. Lyle to change as for the 
foundation principles of geometry to resolve themselves into 
beautiful forms and shapes to please the eye by flowing 
curves. 

With quick justice, Bera soon detected the many good 
qualities of both Mr. and Mrs. Lyle ; but she felt that they 
had allowed themselves to become dwarfed by their great 
foe, “ Economy.” 

The chivalric deference that Greek paid to all women was 
an outgrowth of his father’s chivalry. The cheery tempera- 
ment that refused the dark when there was a sunny side, that, 
too, was of the father. From his mother, the innate neatness 
and the quick perceptive intellect was due ; and Bera, loving 
him, loved also these traits in them. 

But on this day of accidents Mrs. Lyle was not easily 
propitiated, and as they were uniting their efforts in cleansing 
the dishes, she began : 

“ I suppose you expect we are going to give you and Greek 
our money ?” 

Bera paled. ” Oh ! mother, please don’t ; we never 
wished or expected anything ; we never thought of money.” 

“ Well, perhaps not,” suspiciously ; “ but, of course, we 
could not consistently, with our belief of what would result. 
We have worked hard for what we have, and we mean to 
keep it. You and Greek have no idea of how money comes, 
and it would be tempting waste to put it in your hands.” 


PRUNED. 45 

“ Did Greek waste your money while in school?” Bera 
asked, simply. 

“ N-o-o,” hesitated Mrs. Lyle, “ we educated him on half 
what it costs other people ; but then he did not have a wife 
who could not cook beets,” she concluded severely. 

Bera laughed nervously. 

Mrs. Lyle looked horrified. “ You seem to have no power 
to understand what an unwise step Greek took when he mar- 
ried you. It is a great privilege to him to give you a shelter, 
such a burden as you are. Doubtless you thought you were 
doing well for yourself, that we would supply every demand, 
asking no questions.” 

Bera, with an awful pallor over her face, moved her lips 
dumbly. 

” It is all very well,” continued Mrs. Lyle, her disappoint- 
ment in Greek’s marriage getting the better of her, “ to tell of 
being left so young and innocent, not knowing how to com- 
bat the world, but you understood enough of its wiles to en- 
trap Greek for his money.” 

“ Hush !” exclaimed Bera, passionately, “ for I cannot 
endure it ; I did not marry Greek for money. I loved him, 
and so strong is that love, I have listened to words from you, 
his mother, that no other person would have dared say to 
me.” 

Uncertainly, for the misery well-nigh overcame her, Bera 
turned and groped her way from the room. 

That evening she threw her shawl about her, and placing 
her hand on Greek’s arm, led him out under the elms that 
were crimson in the early frost. 

“ Greek, when do you get work ?” she asked, suddenly. 


4 6 


BERA. 


“Why, I have been waiting a good opportunity to talk 
with father, to see what he intends doing to help me.” 

“ Oh ! no,” said Bera, nervously. 

“ Bera,” returned Greek, “ who have I to whom I can go 
with as good a right as to my father, who never refused me 
aught in the world ; you are much too sensitive, little wife.” 

“ Oh ! Greek, get work, get anything,” and her voice 
quivered painfully. 

“ What is the matter, Bera ?” Greek asked in surprise. 

“ This dependence is maddening,” answered Bera, vehe- 
mently, “ get work, and ” — under her breath — “ give me 
self-respect.” 

Greek was aroused by her evident distress. 

“Is it so bad as that?” he asked, remorsefully. “I 
thought the rest and quiet here was well for you, and I enjoy 
home so much ; but I will bestir myself and talk to father at 
once.” 

The next morning, with a yearning heart, Bera listened to 
the far-off sound of voices, not daring to hope. An hour 
after, Greek came up the stairs, his head proudly erect, and 
a stern look about his mouth. 

Bera looked up fearfully, and knew how bitterly he had 
failed. 

He went to her quickly. “ I am going now to look for 
work ; do not worry, darling, I will care for you, ’ ’ and the 
lips, pressed heavily upon her brow, told how deeply he was 
moved. 


WANTED, WORK. 


47 


CHAPTER X. 

WANTED, WORK. 

Feverishly Bera waited for Greek’s return, hoping, yet 
fearing the result. Late at night he came, and tried to meet 
her cheerfully, but he could not conceal his trouble, and she 
drew him gently to a seat. 

“ Now tell me all,” she said. 

He began with an effort. “ When I left this morning I 
believed I could readily secure work. My name gained me 
courtesy, and every one ‘ would be glad, very glad, ’ to aid 
me, but ‘ times * were growing hard, and they had to dis- 
pense with efficient help ; and then,” with a touch of bitter- 
ness, “ they were all curious to know why I wanted work, 
hinting that my own father was more able to provide for me 
than they ; that I was probably more efficient in the dead 
languages than in hand-work. And, Bera, it is true. I 
am a man, and to-day I have learned I am a failure ! If my 
father had encouraged my love for machinery, thereby giv- 
ing me a trade, I would now have some resource, but how 
can I accept a boy’s position, with a boy’s pay, and drag you 
down to poverty with me ?’ ’ and he caught Bera closer. 

“Greek,” and Bera looked him steadily in the face, 
“ take a boy’s place.” 

“But, Bera,— ” 

‘ ‘ Do not think of me, ’ ’ she urged, ‘ ‘ we can start low and 
you will soon be worthy of a man’s place.” 


48 


BERA . 


“My darling,” exclaimed Greek, “with all this unex- 
pected trouble I would not give you up ; with you to aid 
and strengthen I can surely make something. I shall try 
once more. Then if I fail and father will not offer any as- 
sistance, for I shall never ask him again, I will take a low 
place, but not here ; it may be false pride, but I must start 
low among strangers.” 

Slowly Bera made answer, “ Where thou goest I will go ;” 
and Greek knew his girlish wife was strong in her womanly 
love. 

Another day, and he failed again. He was rich Deacon 
Lyle’s son, and could claim no business experience. The 
war was leaving its effect on the country, and where, in the 
North, trade had been unduly active, it was slowly seeking 
its level. 

On his return he said, “ Father, I start for the West in 
the morning. Will you keep my wife until I can send for 
her ?” 

Deacon Lyle looked astonished, and glanced at his wife, 
but she knitted away in severe silence. 

“ Surely,” he returned, with an evident effort, for they 
had not meant to goad him to this, ‘ ‘ we will gladly keep 
her. But you do not mean to go ?” 

“Yes, father, now that I can leave Bera safely.” 

If Deacon Lyle and his wife relented in the least they 
gave no sign, as Bera silently prepared for his departure. 
Early in the morning, valise in hand, Greek was ready to 
go. In the room above, his wife had given him a brave 
farewell ; and now as he turned to his father and mother his 
manly face softened, for they were very dear to him, and 


WANTED , WORN. 


49 


never before had he received aught but loving acts from 
them. 

“Are you supplied with money, Greek?” the Deacon 
asked. 

“ Very little, sir.” 

“ What will you do when that is gone ?” 

“ Walk,” returned Greek. 

The old gentleman drew out his purse, and slowly counted 
out a hundred dollars in crisp bank-notes, and gave them to 
him. 

“ Thank you, father,” Greek said heartily, “ and now I 
must be off.” 

Mrs. Lyle threw her arms about him. “ Oh, Greek, if 
you had only married Zona we could have consistently 
helped you. ” 

Greek kissed her gravely, and clasping his father’s hand, 
went out. 

He gave one long look at the window where Bera stood to 
wave him a last adieu. Then giving way to her grief, she 
threw herself upon the bed. 

Directly Mrs. Lyle dried her tears and started upstairs — 
the back ones, for there was a dollar carpet on the front — 
with a resolute step. Bera hushed her grief as she entered 
the room, but kept her face hid. 

“ You muss the covers ; hadn’t you better get up ?” ob- 
served Mrs. Lyle. 

Bera arose obediently. 

Mrs. Lyle was busy taking down the tinted shades. “ The 
sun fades them so ; you can keep the shutters closed, and 
that will answer as well,” she remarked, “ besides saving the 


BERA. 


5 ° 

carpet. You will not need any more fire now, you can sit 
with us, and,” making a dive at the wash-pitcher, “ you can 
wash downstairs, then there will be no danger of the water 
freezing in the pitcher. * ’ 

Surely Mrs. Lyle’s thrift was rigorous. Working early 
and late in the strife to accumulate, the habit had become so 
fixed that it would have cost her a greater effort to relax 
from rigid economy than to move on in the well-learned 
routine. With plenty, she was past the time when, realizing 
the fact, she could have cast away the self-imposed burden, 
and taking to herself those dainty accessories of wealth, her 
old age would have become a luminous softening against the 
severities of former years. Do not blame but pity the 
unbending will that preferred to finish life uneased of that 
worldly care, the casting off of which makes the silver hair 
and wrinkled face so touchingly beautiful in its silent appeal 
for rest. So surely as the aged do not think they must 
rest, they are allowed to toil on, till death shall lay his cold 
hand upon the worn but still busy fingers and say, “ Thou 
shalt labor no more.” 


CHAPTER XI. 

MARIAM. 

A few days after Greek’s departure all was undergoing 
renovation in that cleanest of clean houses for the reception 
of Helen and Mariam, Mrs. Lyle’s two daughters, who hav- 
ing finally appreciated the fact of Greek’s marriage, were 


MARIAM. 


5 * 


coming to see his wife. Mariam came first, bringing the 
little Rev. Du Vernet, and the five little Du Vernets, that, 
gradually unrolled from their swathings, developed into 
sturdy boys of all ages and sizes. 

When they were safely settled on their feet, Mariam found 
time to be introduced to Bera. 

For one brief moment she exerted herself to vouchsafe 
Bera a glance, then instantly relapsed within herself. 

A conception of her character came to Bera with that 
intuitive knowledge that is quickened into life by adverse 
surroundings. 

A low, winning smile was a habit on her lips, but under- 
neath that suave exterior lay the acme of selfishness. 

Evidently it was nothing acquired late in life, but being 
innate, had grown with her growth. When Nathan Du Ver- 
net offered her his name she remodelled her selfishness, and 
in its new form was cunningly passed as self-immolation. It 
had proven quite successful, and by virtue of the sacrifice 
she had given herself up to be waited upon by the doting 
little clergyman and his entire congregation. 

She was a model pastor’s wife ; no one was in trouble 
but her sad-toned smile sought out their desolation with 
mournful condolence and wordy sympathy, but leaving to 
the hands of more true-hearted women those offices that she 
had no intention of taking upon herself. Still, her manner 
was so self-sacrificing, she was thoroughly believed in. And 
she believed in herself. So complete was her self-deception 
she would have taken, as a boon well earned, a proposal to 
place her name on the calendar with the saints for merito- 
rious service. 


5 2 


BERA. 


Bera looked on amazed as the rather large family united 
their efforts to get their mother settled. Evidently the little 
fellows had not imbibed the chief element of their mother’s 
character, or having imbibed, it died for lack of nourishment, 
for Mariam Du Vernet preferred a monopoly to a distribu- 
tion that might interfere with self-interest. 

Bera soon loved her pleasant-faced little nephews, as she 
noted the untiring zeal with which they trotted hither and 
thither on errands for “ dear mamma,” as that lady sat in 
the best rocking-chair in perfect self-concentration. 

Suddenly she noticed that Bera was not paying homage to 
the enthroned deity of her existence, and languidly raising 
her eyes asked for a drink of water. 

Bera’s face flushed, and for one moment her pride rose in 
protestation, then came the humiliating sense of dependence, 
and that she had no right for self-assertion. Quietly she 
brought the water, her cheeks a burning crimson. 

Mariam glanced at her as she barely touched the water. 

“ Why, you look well and strong ; I am so glad, for I am 
sure the children will love you.” 

Mrs. Lyle looked at Bera uneasily. “ I guess the cooking- 
stove has flushed her face ; she is generally pale.” 

“ Indeed!” returned Mariam, the uninterested tone dis- 
missing the subject ; then with more animation than she 
had shown began to relate her troubles and labors, her com- 
ings and goings, of her plans, her husband, her family, her 
church, and her journey, to the utter exclusion of all else. 

Bera felt crushed and extinguished ; tears rushed to her 
eyes that poverty rendered her beyond the pale of common 
courtesy. 


MARIAM. 


53 


In this she was wrong ; Mariam yielded no deference to 
station, wealth, or poverty ; these were incomparable to her 
own matchless perfection, such perfection that she could 
review her life and find therein nothing for which to repent ; 
that humiliating self-abnegation was left to sinners of whom 
she was not one. Hence, to her enthroned god, all the van- 
ities of earth must bow, none being too good to contribute 
to the altar fires. 

Bera saw with amazement encroachments made in the 
household for which she, having once unwittingly done, had 
been reproved and made to conform thereafter. While she 
arose at an unseemly hour to assist in the now multiplied 
household tasks, Mariam slept the sleep of the just until a 
late hour, and with unruffled brow and conscience came 
with her brood to partake of mother’s nice breakfast, 
delighting her heart by judicious praise, that was easy, not 
requiring much exertion. 

The tedium of the days was broken by the arrival of Helen, 
the eldest daughter, and her husband, and their brusk blunt- 
ness was a decided relief to Bera. 

“ So you are Greek’s wife,” Helen said ; “ an unwise 
step, but must be made the most of now and having said 
just what she thought, referred to it no more. 

Helen’s husband was a shrewd, thriving merchant, and 
put Bera thoroughly at her ease by his hearty greeting. He 
looked full at her as if to weigh her accurately, and said 
kindly, “ I think we shall like each other, sister Bera.” 

But her heart sank when with Deacon Lyle she heard him 
discuss notes, bonds, mortgages; she thought, “And he 
loves money too.” 


54 


BERA. 


During these days no word had come from Greek, and 
Bera bore the anxiety in silence. At last a letter came, and 
he had found work in the southern part of a western State. 
At least he was given a month’s trial. “ I have no fear but 
that I shall be retained, ’ ’ he wrote, ‘ ‘ but until I am sure, 
will not send for you. I never thought when I used to 
whittle little steam-engines with my knife, that I would be 
thankful to work about a real live one. But so it is, and I 
find myself taking as much interest in getting the wheels 
bright as I used to in making the best Latin translation. ’ ’ 

Mariam made an outcry. 

“ Greek a railroad man ! Oh, horrors ! such black, sooty 
men, and so wicked, I know, for as we came here I reproved 
a brakeman for swearing, and he laughed in my face, and 
said the road could not be run without it, that the quickest 
trips had the most swear *in them then, having exerted 
herself unduly in another’s behalf, subsided. 

Bera listened to the protestations, but as nothing was 
offered to save him from the disgrace, wrote to him with 
encouraging words, and then began to prepare for her de- 
parture. 

Mariam looked on disapprovingly. 

“ Bera takes too much time for herself,” she said plain- 
tively, ” and baby is so heavy. Now if Greek had married 
Zona, she would have had everything ready, and so much 
money beside.” 

Bera quietly continued her work, and Mariam took her 
departure. 


HOME. 


55 


CHAPTER XII. 

HOME. 

In the attic Bera had found many garments belonging to 
Greek, that every month had been carefully sunned and 
aired. These, with Mrs. Lyle’s assistance and advice, were 
assorted, the best kept for Greek’s use in his present work, 
the others torn in strips for a rag-carpet. With determined 
energy Bera worked, her heart in the West with the one 
toiling for her. In Mrs. Lyle’s system of unsurpassed econ- 
omy not an item escaped her, for, putting aside all the past, 
she had determined to become very old-fashioned, and live 
within Greek’s wages. Two months had passed since Greek’s 
departure, and Bera with pardonable pride surveyed the neat 
pile of bedding and the comfortable carpet. To her stores 
Mrs. Lyle had added a few linen and dish towels, and the 
Deacon added a half dozen silver teaspoons. The boxes 
were to be sent at once, and Bera was to follow in a few 
days, for Greek had written that he had at last found a house 
small enough to suit, in size and rent. 

The Deacon and his wife gave many counsels 

“ Now that you are married, you and Greek must do your 
best,” he finished. ” A wasteful wife will cause any man 
to fail.” 

“ I will try,” Bera answered ; and then her thoughts went 
on into the untried future, and in spite of her resolve to do 
the best she could, she shrank lest her hands might prove too 


56 


BERA. 


weak for the toil before them. They were to be poor, and 
already she had learned of the corrosive trials of poverty, 
and she wondered if she and Greek would grow impatient 
and weary, the fret-lines gather on their brows, and while 
still young in years be old ere their time. 

Her part in placing Greek in his present position was 
heavy upon her, and but for the knowledge that he did not 
think of her as a burden, life would have been insupportable. 

At last, after the long waiting, the farewells were spoken, 
and Bera had set her face to the West, and the days of 
travel were drawing to a close. Everything had changed. 
The commodious houses of the East had been succeeded by 
the still large but negligently kept buildings of the West. 
But the broad fields in which hundreds of eastern farms 
would be lost rolled away in undulating lines as far as the 
eye could reach. But now, into a stranger, wilder country 
the train bore the wondering Bera. At Cragsfort, the north- 
ern terminus of the C. & M. C. Railroad, she had changed 
cars for Carbon, the point on the road where the repairing 
shops were located, and where Greek was to be found. On 
every side low, thick-set oak trees bordered the track, and 
ponds of yellow, half-frozen water completed the melancholy 
picture. Here and there a few acres had been cleared, and 
in the same small limit were scattered the remnants of 
wheat, corn, tobacco, and broken stalks of the ricinus, here 
a staple product, used in the East for ornamental foliage. 
The low cabins, bare of all symmetry, struck dismay to 
Bera’s heart. “ Would her home be like them?” she que- 
ried. To each door, as the engine puffed leisurely along, 
was a stampede, the mistress with a shock of hair and 


HOME . 


57 


soiled dress, scarcely keeping her footing among ten or 
twelve juveniles, with miniature shock heads, and clothes 
hardly kept in place by bits of twine. The whole presented 
a panorama of inert shiftlessness that jarred on Bera’s hot- 
house ideas of life. 

The villagers were scarcely better ; here and there a house 
of pretentious Gothic, painted in extreme ill-taste, marked 
the fortunate man who owned the land “ when the railroad 
came. ’ ’ Now and then a passenger entered, whose awe-struck 
gaze at the gildings of the coach proclaimed the first ride. 

The fifty miles was finally accomplished, and as the train 
pulled slowly into Carbon, Bera looked eagerly for Greek. 
A begrimed man sprang on board, and went towards her, 
and she shrank back. In a moment both hands were im- 
prisoned, and the startled look turned to one of recognition. 

“Oh, Greek!” 

He laughed cheerily. “ I thought you would hardly know 
me, but work hours are just over, and I had no time to turn 
gentleman ; but come,” and in a moment Bera was lifted 
from the cars, and Greek led her away. But a minute’s 
walk and he opened the gate to a plain little house. 

“ This is our home,” he said, “ not such as I dreamed 
to give you, but ours.” 

Bera looked about her ; there on the floor was the carpet, 
the labor of her own hands, a few chairs, and a stove that 
was glowing brightly, telling of loving thought that had pre- 
pared for her comfort, then Greek found himself subjected 
to payment that he took with extreme good grace. 

“Now we will look at the rest, and perhaps I will get 
some more,” he said laughingly, as Bera released him. 


58 


BERA. 


A further inspection revealed a bedroom, where a solitary 
bed was standing, but Greek remarked that with the trunks 
it would look well furnished, at which both laughed merrily. 
In the kitchen, a little stove freshly blackened, a small oak 
table, and a diminutive closet completed the outfit. 

Soon the fire was burning, and Bera investigated concern- 
ing the chances for something to eat, while Greek went for 
the trunks. She soon discovered flour, a beefsteak, and 
some potatoes, but further search revealed the fact that salt, 
pepper, and other accessories were missing. There was 
nothing to do but to await Greek’s return, and rather dis- 
couraged at this unsatisfactory beginning Bera’s spirits were 
on the ebb, when a gentle knock at the door broke in upon 
her cogitations. 

Opening it, there stood a pretty black-eyed girl, bearing 
a waiter covered with a snowy napkin. 

“ Please,” she said shyly, “my mamma, Mrs. Hallet, 
sent her compliments, and would you accept something for 
your tea ; she thought you would be very tired.” 

Tears sprang into Bera’s eyes. “ Tell your mamma that 
only a stranger can appreciate such kindness, and give her 
my heart-felt thanks ; but who is my little messenger ?” 

“ I am Gertie Hallet, and I am so glad you have come,” 
and she lifted her sweet lips for a kiss. 

” We will be friends, I know,” said Bera heartily, and 
Gertie shyly departed. 

When Greek returned a nice supper greeted his hungry 
eyes, and his wife very demurely came to meet him. 

“ This is splendid,” he exclaimed, “ Home, home, home !” 
and, drawing to the table, looked around approvingly. 


GOSSIP. 


59 


” I have had nothing to eat since coming here,” and he 
helped himself to broiled steak ; ” this coffee is brown as a 
berry ; how did you learn so fast ?’ ’ and he looked admiringly 
at Bera, who laughed merrily. 

” I must yield such sweet praises to an unknown Mrs. 
Hallet, who sent in such a bountiful repast.” 

Greek looked grave. “I am sorry, ’ ’ he said, ‘ ‘ they say 
hard things of her.” 

Bera shook her head. “A thoughtful woman sent this, 
and we will not believe wrong lightly ; besides the child has 
as innocent, sweet a face as I ever saw. Her mother must 
be good,” and with sage logic the subject was dismissed. 

After tea, although both were tired, the trunks were un- 
packed, and the pictures hung. Greek had made a neat 
walnut case, and in that the books were carefully arranged. 

” How books and pictures refine their surroundings !” 
Greek observed when they surveyed their work, then softly, 
44 Can you be happy, darling ?” 

” Oh ! Greek, with you that is enough,” and Bera smiled 
her happiness, and he was satisfied. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

GOSSIP. 

Early the next morning Bera was astir, for the breakfast 
was to be her first independent effort. The missing articles 
were supplied, and with great care she began the task. The 
moments glided by, and at last everything was in readiness. 


6o 


BERA. 


She had proudly passed a cup of amber coffee, when, shrill 
and piercing, a whistle called the hour of seven. Greek 
sprang for his hat. 

“Oh! do not go,” cried Bera, distressed, “you will 
starve before noon ; let them wait for you.” 

“ No, little wife, nothing but rank impossibility should 
keep a man from his work ; there, kiss me quick, and do not 
fret,” and he was gone. Bera sat with her hands folded and 
listened as his footsteps receded, and registered her first 
failure. 

“ I was too slow,” she chided herself, “ I will begin dinner 
now, then I will be sure to have it ready.” 

Just at noon Bera put the dinner hot and steaming upon 
the table, and ran to brush her hair ere Greek came. 

“ Dinner,” he called, bursting in, and hungry as a bear ; 
“ why,” catching Bera in his arms, “ you look good enough 
to eat.” 

‘ ‘ Spare me, ’ ’ laughed Bera, ‘ ‘ but according to all well- 
known regulations, you should have lost your temper with 
your breakfast ; but come, all is ready.” 

“ This is extra,” said Greek, helping himself to roast meat, 
“ browned just right. But what is the matter ?” for Bera’s 
face had grown wofully long. 

‘ ‘ The coffee, see, ’ ’ and she poured out some of the thick, 
muddy fluid. 

“ Why, it is not cleared enough,” said Greek, examining 
it critically. 

“ I expect I did not use enough egg,” said Bera dubiously, 
“ I was trying to make one egg last a week, the way your 
mother does.” 


GOSSIP . 


6 1 


Greek laughed heartily. 

“ Well done, shadow of my ancestor, but I believe I 
would use a little more, say two eggs a week,” and he 
laughed again, Bera joining in 

“ How ye do ?” 

Bera turned and encountered the gaze of a tall, rawboned 
woman, who had pushed open the door and stood regarding 
her. 

“ How ye do ?” repeated the woman, coming in. “ I’m 
one of yer neighbors. I lowed you might be lonesome, and 
come over to churk you up a bit.” 

Bera recovered from her annoyance, gave her a chair, and 
offered to take her bonnet. 

“ No, thankee ; I’ll just put it down hure,” and she un- 
fastened the great black sun-bonnet, and, seating herself, 
looked about the room. 

“ I suppose you are Mis’ Lyle,” she resumed, satisfied 
with her observation. “ I am Mis’ Dixon, don’t mind me, 
go on with your work,” and Bera with a flush of resentment 
at this unceremonious visitor, took up the brush to polish the 
stove where it was soiled. 

” La, do you do that every day ?” interrogated the woman; 
” once a year’s enough for me. Are you goin’ to keep a 
girl ?” 

“ No,” answered Bera, good-humoredly. 

“I thought you looked like a lady,” said the woman 
bluntly. 

” Oh !” said Bera, amused, “ don’t ladies work here ?” 

“ The first-class don’t ; why don’t you keep a girl ?” 

“ Because we are poor,” said Bera, flushing a little. 


62 


BERA. 


“ Poor ! well now if I ever heard any one own up like 
that. Ain’t you afraid ?” 

“ Of what ?” 

“ That you’ll injure yourself in society ? But I won’t tell 
any one, and don’t you say so again, for no one will notice 
you then with a tone of alarm, “ I don’t know but I’m 
risking a good deal bein’ hure.” 

“ I am sorry to have you run any risks on my account,” 
said Bera, dryly. 

“ Well, I always am that kind-hearted. I tells Dixon to- 
day it’s mighty risky takin’ up with strangers, but that poor 
young thing needs a true and faithful friend, and I’ll just 
run over before Mis’ Leeroy does. She’s always puttin’ her- 
self forward, an’ she ain’t much, let me tell you,” and Mrs. 
Dixon shook her head mysteriously. 

Bera made no answer, and Mrs. Dixon continued : 

“ She talks about others, and she had better look to home. 
I do think these prying tale-bearers are an abomination, as 
the Scriptures say ; be you pious ?” 

“ Why ?” asked Bera, trying not to laugh. 

“ Because him that sinneth shall die, and there’s no salva- 
tion outside the church ; but just let me warn you about them 
Christian church people. I could tell you,” shaking her 
head, “ but we are commanded to speak no evil.” 

“ Why do you then ?” asked Bera, before she thought. 

Mrs. Dixon brindled, and Bera hastened to add, “ Excuse 
me, I did not mean to hurt you.” 

Mrs. Dixon relaxed. “ Well, I don’t take affronts easy, 
and you’re mighty young, now ain’t you ?” 

‘‘Not very,” answered Bera. 


GOSSIP. 


6 3 


“ Well, you look young, and your husband too, and they 
do say he don’t drink, smoke, nor chew ; but never mind,” 
consolingly, “ he’ll soon learn.” 

“ I do not want him to,” answered Bera. “I am proud 
that he is free from such habits.” 

“ Well, I do declar ! A man ain’t no man unless he 
smokes.” 

“ I don’t think so,” answered Bera, smiling. 

“ Well, I’m sorry for him then, intent on her real mis- 
sion, she began a dissertation on people in general, giving 
every one a hasty shaking in the gossip-mill, and turning 
them out for a new victim. 

Bera listened in vague wonder, and when at last Mrs. 
Dixon paused out of breath, she remarked in a troubled 
tone : 

“ I am sorry there is such society here, I had hoped to 
find many pleasant people.” 

“ An’ ain’t they ?” snapped Mrs. Dixon ; “ ’pears to me 
some folks hold their heads pretty high.” 

“ I only judged from what you said,” returned poor Bera. 

“ Me !” sniffed Mrs. Dixon, “ I never <said a word agin 
anybody in my life. If that’s all the thanks I am to have 
after all my kindness, I’d better go,” and the affronted lady, 
who never gossiped, gathered up her bonnet and departed. 

” A whole afternoon wasted,” said Bera, as she turned to 
prepare supper. 

After tea, Greek produced an account-book, and with an 
air of great gravity laid it before Bera. 

“ Here are all my accounts since I left home for school, 
and here I have commenced our accounts. We must face 


64 


BERA. 


the matter now ; we have but forty dollars a month, and must 
make that cover expenses, besides saving some ; what do 
you say, little wife ?” 

Bera looked up, puzzled. “'I cannot see how we can save 
out of so little.” 

“ Nor I, but we are going to try. I have a month’s wages, 
and twenty-five dollars besides. I propose to send the 
latter to father, as we have no savings-bank here, to invest 
for me, and to which we will add from time to time. Do 
you agree ?” 

Bera nodded. 

“ Then this forty dollars must be made into four divisions, 
after taking out the five that we will try and save this month 
to begin with, and we are to determine that we will make it 
last through each week.” 

“ That looks well on paper,” said Bera dubiously, “ but 
if we cannot ?” 

“ Bera, we must ; we are solely dependent upon ourselves, 
and if we do not save in case of sickness or trouble, what 
should we do ?’ ’ and Greek spoke earnestly. 

“ You are right, I know,” returned Bera, “ and I will do 
my best to help you, ’ ’ and she lifted her lips for a seal to 
the compact. 


CARBON. 


65 


CHAPTER XIV. 

CARBON. 

Geologists claim that the portion of the earth where the 
scene of my story is laid is slowly rising, having been sub- 
merged till a later day than the surrounding territory. How- 
ever that is, the finishing of this portion of the globe is 
very defective, seemingly having been left much to itself. 
Scrub-oak and bog-holes had occupied the country until the 
first explorer came. Who he was is mythical, having left 
no annals, either from his inability to read and write, or he 
was doubtful of the philanthropy of the act. 

For seventy years the town of Carbon had been incorpo- 
rated, the only progressive fact in its history. Entirely re- 
moved from the rest of the world, it was a beneficent shelter 
for fugitives from justice. If in a distant State a crime was 
committed, Carbon was sure to have a new citizen, who was 
welcomed by way of variety, and no questions asked. The 
older settlers, at this time, had almost all passed away, leav- 
ing their posterity to inherit their worldly possessions and 
aristocracy, a claim undisputed; for each one feared the 
other, lest there should be an overhauling and unsavory 
tales brought to light. Thus as years passed on they lived 
in perfect stagnation, physically, mentally, morally. 

In ’68, the year that gave the insane impetus to railway 
buildings, their stupor was rudely broken. How the mir- 
acle of a railroad was ever accomplished is still a wonder, 


66 


BERA. 


for the old settlers affirmed that the good old days were gone, 
and the road had brought ruin. 

But, in spite of the antediluvians, it was there, and meant 
to stay. The town sprang into new life. New-comers 
broke the monopoly of trade, and drove the old residents to 
like activity to hold their own. The little wooden stores 
were moved back, and real shop-fronts increased their impor- 
tance. But as the adder warmed to life strikes death to the 
friendly hand, so they fought, step by step, the encroach- 
ments of a more stirring civilization. The bright intellects 
who had formerly governed the town were jealous of their 
power, and united in crushing all aspirants to renown. Thus, 
although quickened physically, it remained mentally as dead 
as in former times. 

Into this abyss of social death Greek had drifted in his 
search for work. 

One morning Bera was pleased to receive a call from Mrs. 
Hallet. Already she had formed a good opinion of a mother 
who had given so much culture to the little Gertie. 

“ I have come to see you concerning Gertie,” she re- 
marked, when the greetings were passed ; “ she has taken a 
strong liking to you, and begs to come so often I feared you 
would be annoyed. ’ ’ 

“ I love her, too,” answered Bera, heartily, “ and if I can 
make her life less lonely, and yours as well, I shall be 
happy.” 

“ I ask nothing for myself,” said Mrs. Hallet, wearily, 
and Bera felt great pity for the faded but still beautiful 
woman before her. A few more commonplaces were passed, 
and Mrs. Hallet withdrew. 


CARBON". 67 

Here was a mystery indeed, a lovely cultivated woman, 
with evident wealth, isolated from all the world. 

A sharp decisive rap startled her from her perplexity, and 
a little woman with a wisp of light hair, faint blue eyes, and 
faded wrapper, entered. 

“I’ve come to warn you,” she observed, sententiously, at 
the same time giving the room a keen glance. 

Bera looked her surprise. 

“ That Mrs. Hallet was in here, and just let me tell you if 
you associate with her , you won’t have nobody else.” 

Bera’s eyes flashed, but she answered quietly : 

“ Mrs. Hallet never goes out, she tells me, hence I am 
not to have the chance to associate with her. But, hereafter, 
I wish my neighbors to remember that I will not listen to 
another word of slander ; if you come to see me you must 
leave all gossip at home.” 

The woman looked blank, and hastily departed. 

When Greek returned the traces of tears were on Bera’s 
cheeks, and drew out the whole story. 

“You did right,” he said approvingly; “ if you allow gossip 
here, your days and nights will be perpetual torment. I 
hoped you would be spared, but you have met them effect- 
ively. Do not allow the distance now created to be abridged. 
Mrs. Dixon and Mrs. Leeroy are but fair samples of this 
portion of the community. But as we are obliged to remain 
here on account of low rent, have nothing to do with them. 
It will be hard for you to have no society, but not so hard 
as the torment to which you would be subjected. ’ ’ 

“ I will have Gertie ; she is true and innocent at least ; as 
for the others I shall not care,” and Bera threw off the 
anxiety occasioned by her morning caller. 


68 


BERA. 


The month still lacked a week of completion, and Greek 
sat looking at a small array of currency on the table before 
him. 

“ Only eighty cents left ; we shall be obliged to draw on 
the savings fund,” he said, regretfully. 

Bera looked up, “ Oh, no ! we must not.” 

“ But we must ; eighty cents will not feed two persons a 
week.” 

“ Let me try,” said Bera; I will divide it into parts. You 
must have your broiled steak in the morning — not as much as 
you want perhaps, but enough to keep you strong. That will 
take thirty-five cents ; lucky we do not live in the East just 
now. The milk bill is paid to date, and will not be due till 
we have taken eight pints ; that will tide us over the fatal 
seven days. And I bake to-day, so we will have plenty of 
bread and milk. ’ * 

“Leaving forty-five cents for luxuries,” said Greek, 
laughing as he caught her gay humor ; “we can but try, and 
if we fail this five dollars must be sacrificed.” 

With good spirits they entered on the week of “ half a 
loaf. ’ ’ The steak and bread formed breakfast, and each day 
Greek was surprised by a savory stew, daintily prepared, the 
materials of which he declared came by witchcraft, not know- 
ing that Bera’s share of the morning steak was put one side 
for this purpose. 

The week, however, came to an end, and they had accom- 
plished their purpose, free from debt, and the five dollars in 
the treasury, though, as Greek remarked, they had learned a 
lesson, and would take more bread and milk at the first, and 
not so much at the last of the month. 


DISCOURAGED. 


69 


CHAPTER XV. 

DISCOURAGED. 

In the two years, commonplace, uneventful, that had 
dragged their weary days to a close, the stern discipline of 
the daily life of the poor had come with all its barren force 
to Greek and Bera. After some months Greek had been 
promoted to the position of fireman, more laborious in its 
way, but thankfully accepted as being one step nearer the 
goal of his hope, that grew farther away as the natural light- 
ness of youth was chafed and worn by constant, labor and 
care. His life was in exact opposition to what it had been 
formerly. At first his cheery nature had asserted itself, and 
he worked hopefully. But gradually the contact with the 
coarse illiterate men around hardened him to his fate, and 
instead of the early fruition of his hopes he thought only of 
the many years of toil ere liberty came. Liberty, and what 
then ? He who had so appreciated scientific research, now 
remembered, with clinched hands, that when liberty did 
come he would be past the power of mental growth. Thus, in 
querulously questioning his fate, he determinedly disguised 
the better elements of his nature, and sought to roughen the 
finer grades of feeling that he might find in his present em- 
ployment more enjoyment. 

Bera watched the change that crept over him, and sought 
by all means in her power to soften the hard phases of his 
life, and to uphold his more refined nature. Her fear for 


70 


BERA. 


him had caused the lines of sadness to deepen in her lovely 
face, and the grave spiritual eyes had become haunting in 
their intenseness. 

In this crisis of their lives, had Bera been a coarse, igno- 
rant woman, all hope had indeed been gone ; but her sensitive, 
perceptive nature, that seemed so weak to her, was strength 
outrivalling brute force and passion. Knowing what an in- 
fluence the surroundings of a home had, her first and best 
efforts were directed there. A quiet, orderly home, everything 
breathing of the true refinement of the hand that would not 
own fatigue in its labor of love. To Bera it was a constant 
exertion. The work in itself was repellent, but for his sake 
she took an interest even in what was so foreign to her. The 
home, with its meagre appointments, was carefully over- 
looked in every detail. 

To such a home Greek came, the hardness of his bearing 
cast one side ; for though the whole world were against him, 
here he found love and comfort, and the almost idolatrous 
love for his lovely wife was the strong saving influence that 
kept the inner life from incrustation in the fight with pov- 
erty. The early winter hours brought the necessity of taking 
tea by lamplight, and to-night Bera had tried in vain to start 
the pleasant conversation that was always a part of their 
repast. They believed that though isolated from congenial 
society, they might, in a measure, cultivate themselves by 
strictly adhering to those usages of intelligent society to 
which, in a vague way, they hoped some time to return. 

Bera placed everything in order, and quietly stationed her- 
self behind the chair where her husband was sitting, gazing 
into the ruddy blaze that flashed from the grated stove. 


DISCOURAGED. 


71 


Softly she passed her hand over the clustering locks, know- 
ing that touch, so full of sympathy, would sooner exercise 
the unquiet spirit than the best selected words. Suddenly 
he spoke : 

“ I may as well tell you, for those fingers will coax out 
the whole story. I hoped to bring you different tidings to- 
night. For some months I have worked and studied hard, 
every spare minute being given to the study of the locomo- 
tive. Against long familiarity and practice, I hoped the 
power of brains would tell. If I, by constant application, 
could understand the mechanical details required, why should 
I not stand a chance, at least, against men whose sole knowl- 
edge had been absorbed by daily contact ? Thus I reasoned, 
but to-day I have learned the folly of believing that brains 
stand any chance against brute force — on a railroad, at least. 
Hartner — a younger man than I on the road, and as hard- 
ened in sin as men often are, got the place without so much 
as a competitive examination to prove whose knowledge 
was the best, proving again that the harder, coarser, and 
more profane a man is, the surer he is of success.” 

The light fingers strayed soothingly over the flushed brow, 
and Bera said steadily : 

“Not for worlds would I have you the counterpart of 
that man. We may go lower in poverty, if health fails, but 
never lower in our own self-respect.” 

“But this place would have meant so much to us,” he 
urged, “ my wages would have been doubled, and that meant 
rest for you, my darling,” and he caught Bera in his arms, 
and passionately kissed the lips that had lost some of the 
red of former days. ‘ ‘ Then, too, we could have let some 


72 


BERA. 


beauty creep in against these bare necessities, some new pic- 
tures, flowers, and books. Oh ! Bera, I am starved for a 
knowledge of what others are doing in the great fields from 
which I am shut out. But how hopeless when I know a 
new book means a scantier supply of food for us. And 
see, in two years nothing has been spent in clothing, and in 
spite of our assuring ourselves that we do very nicely in 
these, we both know how poverty-stricken they really are. 
We have deprived ourselves of everything except what we 
were obliged to eat, and have saved but two hundred dollars, 
and that must go now for clothing. ’ ’ 

“ No,” answered Bera, firmly, ” not so long as we have 
health and strength left shall that be touched. The hardest 
in life or in death is that which comes first, and I feel that in 
these few dollars, hardly earned and hardly saved, is our in- 
spiration for better days that must come, and, Greek, I feel 
sure are coming, for faithfulness in the least is sure of recog- 
nition at last.” 

“ I wish I could share in your hopefulness, but I am thor- 
oughly discouraged,” he answered despondently. “ Bera,” 
suddenly closing his grasp on her hand that drew a startled 
cry from her, ‘ ‘ I have fought the feeling so long, and I am 
ashamed that it masters me now, but I have come to doubt 
paternal and maternal love. How can father and mother see 
me, with the tastes and desires that they encouraged, wearing 
my life out, shut away from all I would delight in — no” — 
catching the hand raised to his lips — “ I must say it, for it is 
rancor to my life ; can it be that they love money better than 
they do the boy who, of their own volition, they brought into 
life ? They pretend, their religion pretends, that a human 


DISCOURAGED . 


73 


soul is worth more than gold untold, and yet they risk the ruin 
of mine against the fear that their money might be wasted by 
helping me !” 

And Bera, looking back, remembered when such words 
had fallen from a woman’s lips ; and the strange fatality that 
the evidence of two should be given to her, and from those 
so near her own life, startled a sense that everything true 
and sacred was dropping away, and a low cry broke from her 
lips. 

‘ 1 Oh ! Bera, my wife, forgive me, and I will never shock 
you again,” Greek exclaimed regretfully, fully aroused now 
from the gloomy retrospect in which he had been indulging, 
“ I will never tell you such thoughts.” 

“ And never think them again, Greek,” Bera answered 
softly. ” Oh ! my husband, we have the power over our- 
selves, though not over our fortunes, and we can make the 
one bear golden fruit, though the other gives nothing but 
leaves.” 

Tenderly Greek stroked the waving hair back from her 
brow, and the troubled look deepened in his eyes. 

” I have worse to tell you, for leaving my wife unprotected 
is worse than all else. My present run has been changed, 
and I must be from home every other night.” 

Bera smiled bravely, but her heart beat fast with the 
thought of the lonely nights. 

“ I am not afraid, Greek, for who would harm me, and I 
am sure there is nothing to steal.” 

The strong arm of her husband tightened its clasp as he 
thought of the wickedness in the world, of which she knew so 
little. 


74 


BERA. 


And she sought to cheer him, till her words of hope gave 
tinge to his. 

“ I will still try,” he said, “ and will succeed.” 

And Bera answered, “ I know you will.” 


CHAPTER XVI. 

PROMOTED. 

Rather soberly the next morning Bera spread the snowy 
napkin in the basket that was to hold Greek’s lunch, for the 
item of a warm dinner could not be afforded. She had never 
been left alone, and though putting on a brave face to Greek, 
the awesome hours of night would creep into her thoughts. 
When the basket was ready Bera put on her threadbare 
shawl and antiquated hat to take it to the shops, for Greek 
could not return for it. 

At this moment there came a brisk knock at the door, 
and on opening it a young man with a pen behind his ear 
stood waiting. 

In his momentary surprise at the apparition before him a 
startled whistle broke from his lips, and Bera, flushing crim- 
son, drew back. 

“ Pardon me for my rudeness, but I was looking for Lyle ; 
can you tell me where he lives ?’ ’ asked the clerk, politely 
removing his hat. 

“ My husband is at the shops ere this,” said Bera, trying 
to hide her distress. 


PROMOTED. 


75 


“ Ah ! Mrs. Lyle, then ? I beg your pardon again, but I 
was surprised,” and he glanced about the room ; then in a 
moment he walked directly by Bera to a drawing table that 
Greek had constructed, whereon was a well-executed drawing 
of an engine. 

“ Accurate in every detail,” he exclaimed, examining it 
eagerly ; “ whose work is it ?” 

Bera, struggling with hurt pride, softened to hear Greek 
praised, and answered, “ My husband’s, and here are 
others,” opening a drawer and handing him drawings of 
links, wheels, and axles. 

“ Good !” said the clerk. “ Mrs. Lyle, may I take these 
with me ? I will answer to your husband for the theft.” 

“Yes,” she said reluctantly, ‘‘but be careful, for they 
represent many hours that he has taken for them from sleep. 

“ They will pay him in the end, I think,” said the clerk. 
“ And now if you will let me I will take that basket to 
him, as he goes out in a short time.” 

“ Thanks,” said Bera gratefully ; but as he moved away 
her cheeks burned with resentment. 

Mr. Dalton, the master-mechanic, was talking with a gen- 
tleman whose hair was sprinkled with gray, and both seemed 
disturbed. 

“ I do not know of one who is competent for the place,” 
he was saying. 

“ See what I have foraged, gentlemen,” the clerk ex- 
claimed, entering, and laying the drawings upon the table. 

“ Splendidly done,” exclaimed Mr. Dalton, examining 
them critically ; “ who could be the genius ?” 

” Lyle.” 


7 & 


BERA. 


“ The very one wanted ; go and bring him in. I wonder 
I had not thought of him, but I never see him, he is around 
so little.” 

“ And a good reason he has for getting home,” said the 
clerk ; “his wife is a beauty, of the modest, unassuming 
kind, and their home, though plain, is one long, pure breath 
of refinement.”* 

“ A fireman’s wife ! Strange I had not heard,” said Mr. 
Dalton ; ” but from your account it is quite a find. My wife 
must call on her.” 

Strange that he had not heard ? No, it was not strange ; 
the few with whom Bera had come in contact had rendered 
her introduction to Carbon so painful she had made no fur- 
ther attempt, but remained closely at home, where wrong 
and jealousy could not enter. 

At home Bera was walking the narrow room, her thoughts 
feverishly running riot. 

“ This will craze me,” she murmured ; “ how one swift 
glimpse of the world has shown me how I have shut myself 
in, until I have no resources left within myself to command 
self-control. The stream that has no springs must of neces- 
sity go dry. For months not one kindly word or look from 
any one save Gertie ; of what use is my barren life ? a burden 
to my husband, to be looked at curiously, and he is pitied, 
while I drag him down. Oh ! God, save me from myself.” 
Her own thoughts terrified her, and, sitting down, she buried 
her face in her hands, but when she arose all the calm 
strength of her life had returned. 

She busied herself about the house, and, when nothing 
more remained to be done, took a worn coat of Greek’s, 


PROMOTED. 


77 


and till late her busy fingers flew out and in as the spots 
were carefully darned. Then with a sigh of satisfaction she 
laid it one side and sought her pillow, sleep soon closing the 
tired eyes, only to open as the sun danced through the light 
curtain. 

Dinner was upon the table, and she was waiting for 
Greek, whose engine had whistled in half an hour before. 

With a bound he came up the steps, and caught Bera with 
his blackened hands. 

“ Oh ! Greek, you soil my dress,” she remonstrated. 

* * Well, you should have a new one anyway, and this is an 
extra occasion,” he said merrily. “ Why, little wife, did 
you know you were my fortune ?” 

“ A very poor one, I fear,” she laughed. “ But come, 
dinner is ready.” 

‘ ‘ Let dinner wait. But tell me what happened yesterday. ’ * 

Bera’s eyes flashed and her hand clinched. 

“ Never let that clerk come here again. He whistled 
when I opened the door, ” and she buried her face on Greek’s 
arm. 

“Poor little wife,” said Greek, compassionately; “but 
it was the one turn in our favor of the wheel of fortune, for 
as soon as he returned Mr. Dalton sent for me to come to 
the office. There I found General Brenfield, the superin- 
tendent, and I noticed his gray eyes searched me keenly. 
Mr. Dalton examined me, and then complimented me 
on my drawings that I left safely at home this morning. 
When I went out on No. 8 it was as engineer instead of 
fireman ; and there, little wife, you did it.” 

“ Say rather the drawings that you have labored over so 


7 8 


BERA. 


long and faithfully did it. They awakened an interest in 
you that your pride never would have asked for yourself. ’ ’ 

Bera was right. Greek had thought proudly, ‘ ‘ Let them 
see that I am faithful;” but while he wrapped himself in 
reticence and coldness he could not expect recognition. His 
bearing was against his true worth being discovered, and his 
effort to conceal his education had been against him. 

Bera was sobbing now, their good fortune was stranger 
than the hard one they were leaving behind. 

“ I shall never doubt your faith again,” Greek said, and 
Bera was reproved for her own weakness. 

“ But how did a vacancy occur ?” she asked, after a time. 

“ That is the only hard part, some one has lost the place 
so opportune to me. One of Mrs. Dixon’s sons had the en- 
gine, but the superintendent had him removed for disorderly 
conduct. The successor was being chosen when my draw- 
ings plead for me, and now for a hired girl for you, books, 
and ever so much that I did not dare think of before,” and 
Greek left his place to kiss his wife’s cheek that was glowing 
with happiness. 

“ Only I am so sorry for the one who was discharged,” 
she said, and then the conversation drifted off to the new 
books they had wanted so long. 


BRIGHTER DAYS. 


79 


CHAPTER XVII. 

BRIGHTER DAYS. 

Early the next week Mrs. Dalton called, and Bera felt 
attracted by her genial warmth. 

“But why have you kept yourself hid so long ?” she ques- 
tioned. 

Bera hesitated, then feeling that she could speak plainly 
answered : 

‘ ‘ Because I was afraid of the people, they were so merci- 
less in their gossip, sparing neither friend nor foe.” 

“ It is one of the social shames here,” said Mrs. Dalton 
soberly, “ and one some of us are trying to irradicate. But 
have you not thought that you might have benefited them, 
instead of caging yourself, to your own detriment as well ? 
For just as the body pines for sunlight, so our social nature 
wants for something outside of ourselves,” and Mrs. Dalton 
took Bera’s hand in her large, sympathetic one. 

“ I did try,” and Bera laughed nervously, for the mem- 
ory was not a pleasant one, and she graphically described 
the first few days of her sojourn at Carbon. 

Mrs. Dalton laughed heartily. “ It is so like my own ex- 
perience until I learned who to avoid, but now I have a 
circle of very companionable ladies, who will call on you if 
you so wish.” 

“ Certainly, I shall be pleased,” returned Bera gratefully, 


So 


BERA. 


and with a few more words Mrs. Dalton departed, leaving a 
part of her own warm sunny life, for Bera’s chill one. 

The other ladies soon called, and Bera found herself 
warmly received by them. 

Gertie Hallet, who had been her sole companion in the 
long months, was delighted, and said, ‘ ‘ I knew everybody 
would like you, if you would only let them.” 

In her quickened, broadened life, and contact with people 
Bera suddenly grew into womanhood from the half-girlish 
wife her seclusion had left her. 

Then the boyish delight of Greek at his new acquisition 
was a pleasure. 

“ My girl,” he called his engine, and teasingly asked 
Bera “ if she were not jealous ?” 

“ I used to think they were mere ponderous machines, ” he 
said, “ but now when she laughs I laugh, when she coughs, 
I give a little oil very tenderly, and when she comes in from 
a race I see that the perspiration is carefully wiped off, and,” 
mischievously, “ I really believe the old girl loves me.” 

Bera laughed gayly, and together they renewed the youth 
that had been so shortened for them. 

Every week a letter had gone to Deacon Lyle and his 
wife, sometimes from Greek, but oftener from Bera. Greek 
had rebelled, ” They can scarcely care to hear from us 
but Bera had prevailed, for she chided herself with being 
the cause, and the letters came and went. 

With the knowledge of Greek’s promotion Bera had writ- 
ten, hoping that they would understand Greek at last, and 
relent towards him. 

The hope though faint was doomed to disappointment, 


BRIGHTER DAYS. 


Si 


for when the answer came Bera read over Greek’s shoul- 
der — 

“ My Dear Son : On last Wednesday I felt there would 
be a letter from you, but your father was too busy to go to 
the post-office until Saturday, so we were late in getting it. 
Then my own work has so taken my time and strength I 
could not answer before, consistently. Your advancement 
gives us pleasure insomuch as you will be able to save more 
money. In two years you have saved but two hundred dol- 
lars ; whose fault this is, perhaps I ought not to judge. We 
lived on twenty dollars a month when we were first married, 
and surely you should do as well. In the increase of more 
money you will be tempted to spend more. I never felt 
such temptations, but there are those who do, and they 
must strive to resist it. A careful economy in the house 
ensures riches in the end. When I hear of the extravagance 
of the times I think ‘ worse and worse. ’ Mariam writes 
that they have all been sick, she especially. Nathan’s salary 
has been reduced five hundred ; how they will manage to 
live on three thousand I cannot tell. Mariam is much 
afflicted, but bears the trial with great forbearance. The 
week of prayer was productive of much good with us, some 
five or six additions. May your trust be in the Lord, and 
do not forget our advice in regard to carefulness. 

“ Your affectionate mother, 

“ P. D. Lyle.” 

There was a silence between them for some time, then 
Bera lifted her anxious face. 

“ How could we have saved any more, Greek ?” 


82 


BERA. 


“ I was wondering,” said Greek, dryly, “ if we had lived 
on air and saved it all, if they would not have thought that 
too great a luxury for us.” 

“We have done as well as we could,” said Bera, but in 
her self-chastisement, for Greek’s sake, she determined to 
grant herself no greater allowance. Late they talked of the 
new future, not knowing that even then a cloud was rising, 
“ not as large as a man’s hand.” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE CLOUD. 

The Cragsfort and Mount Crete Railroad, on which 
Greek was employed, was owned by home capital. The great 
cry of “ railroad monopoly” was stirring the people. The 
downward tendency of all property began to affect even 
wealthy corporations. Thus the men who had incorporated 
the C. and M. C. road, hoping for liberal returns, saw with 
consternation that it could hardly pay running expenses, 
and then began the mad attempt to save something for them- 
selves. 

Like a bombshell the intelligence burst upon the employes, 
who had considered the pocket of a railroad bottomless. 

Greek brought home the news. “ They promise the men 
shall be paid soon,” he said, “ but it is improbable. The 
road will go into the hands of a receiver, and from what I 
know of former cases, it may be months before everything is 


THE CLOUD. 83 

adjusted. In the meantime we will work for nothing. What 
shall we do, Bera, give up the struggle and go home ?’ ’ 

“ Never,” answered Bera, “ we will not, say you will not 
give up, Greek,” and the pleading eyes were lifted to his 
face. 

“ That is right,” he said. “ I had no will to do so, but 
feared the tax on you. It will be harder now than ever, 
since we had hoped to have more.” 

Greek spoke more hopefully than he felt, and the troubled 
undertone told Bera how serious the calamity was that had 
overtaken them. 

In Greek’s absence Bera had beguiled the lonely hours by 
assisting Gertie Hallet with her lessons. 

“ You tell me so plainly,” said Gertie, with a satisfied 
sigh, as she closed her books that night. “ I never can 
understand Mr. Mangletree when he drawls and hammers 
away. I tell the scholars sometimes what you explain to me, 
and they all wish you would come and teach us. Wouldn’t 
you if they would ask you ?” 

Bera laughed at the novel idea, but a few days later two 
committeemen waited upon her, and, though much embar- 
rassed, stated the object of their visit. 

“You see,” said Mr. Sterns, the spokesman, “we are 
without a teacher up at the school ; the boys put Mr. Man- 
gletree out yesterday, and it’s about as well : the school didn’t 
amount to much ; and we must have a few more months 
taught, or we can’t draw our share of the State tax. My 
Fred has heard Gertie Hallet talk of you, and seein’ there 
ain’t nobody else to get, we thought we would drap in and 
see you. Couldn’t you take the machine and run it through ?” 


8 4 


BERA. 


Bera hesitated ; here was a chance to tide over the next 
few months. 

“ What do you pay ?” she asked. 

The gentlemen immediately took alarm. 

“ Really, they had nothing to do with that. Dr. Daniel, 
the other member of the board, always attended to such 
work. Would Mis’ Lyle go to him and state — yes, she 
might state that they were willing that he should employ 
her ; but we leave it all to him, and as they had been absent 
from work quite a while, they must go.” 

Bera, much amused, bowed out the retiring two-thirds, 
and sat down to think what she should do. In the first 
place Greek’s sanction must be obtained. So that night she 
told him of the day’s visitation. 

He sat thinking a moment, then aroused suddenly. 

“ No, no, little wife ; it will never do. You are not strong 
enough.” 

‘‘Iam stronger than you think ; and, Greek, you are gone 
so much I really have a great deal of time. We cannot 
afford the trinketry that most women wile away time with, 
and so very often I have nothing to do but think.” 

“ But my pride would never let me consent. People 
would say he lets his wife support him.” 

‘‘Let them say it,” returned Bera with spirit; “they 
who so speak would be the last to help us in our present 
difficulty, so why should their taunts disturb us. Unmar- 
ried women teach, who have fathers and brothers ; but, be- 
cause they would live or dress better, they teach, and if 
they are respected for their independence why should not 
I be with a better motive ? Then, Greek,” lower and more 


THE CLOUD. 


85 


rapidly, ” if I am busy, that monster worry, that is slow 
death to a woman, will be at bay. To me, if the world 
only could understand, it were much easier to have gone 
forth every day for the past two years to brain-work, than 
to be harassed by the meagre economies that, instead of 
broadening one’s nature, breeds more narrow-mindedness 
than all the isms in the world.” 

“ Poor wife,” said Greek, regretfully. 

“ Do not misunderstand,” said Bera, eagerly. “ I do 
not complain, for do I not know that in a kind appreciative 
husband I am blessed above most wives. But I have 
thought of these things when the stores gave out, and with 
all due respect for domestic economists, housework for the 
poor has a levelling, deadening influence. It is impossible 
to be scant in sugar, butter, flour, and lard, and everything, 
without feeling somewhat scanty one’s self. I am almost 
sorry I lived so soon, for I believe the time will come when, 
by the growth and development of work, a woman with a 
talent may aid her home by outside work. Men love their 
homes the better because they are the outgrowth of their own 
strong hands ; and why not women ?” 

“ But what shall we do with St. Paul’s command of ‘ keep- 
ers at home’ ? ” asked Greek, amused. 

** I wish St. Paul had been obliged to keep house on less 
than a dollar a day, ’ ’ said Bera, dryly. 

Greek laughed. “ Well, I should never have thought of 
your taking up the cudgel for a larger sphere.” 

“ I do not in the sense you mean. Home will ever be, 
both to man and woman, the source of all toil and work. 
Suppose men were all obliged to be blacksmiths, would they 


86 


BERA. 


all delight in that work ? Then we can readily suppose 
that there are women who have no natural taste or love for 
housework. Shall they combat all natural outgrowth of 
their faculties, and, grimly accepting an uncongenial fate, 
for lack of power to change it, breathe out this life, their 
only hope that where they are going there are no cooking- 
stoves, or floors to scrub.” 

“ Go on,” said Greek. 

‘ ‘ There are women who accept housework as a business 
fo-r which they are adapted. They delight in it, and would 
not change for the uncertainties outside. In the majority 
of homes, too, the gentle clasp of baby fingers bind the wife 
and mother, and give content ; but there are others, like 
ours, Greek, that, when you are gone, there is nothing left ;” 
and the tremulous lips turned to him coaxingly. 

He was silent, for he was unwilling to let his gentle wife 
brave the harsh treatment that he knew would come. 

Bera spoke again. 

“ I need the mental stimulus that would be mine in the 
school-room. Some time we hope to return where there is 
social development awaiting us. In the meantime, if I let 
my forces go to waste the difficulty will be enhanced. 
Though the culture is not of the best, it will be growth, and,” 
catching her breath, “ where there is no growth there is 
subtle death stealing away the vitality ; and we are too young 
for that, Greek.” 

“ Yes, little wife, and I would not deny you anything that 
will make this life of ours better and happier for you. I 
hesitated, for there are few who will understand your ear- 
nestness, and a teacher is public property.” 


DR . DANIEL. 


87 


“ Then you consent ?” said Bera, eagerly. 

“ I did not say,” he answered, smiling, “ but I leave it 
this way. You can see concerning the school, and if it is 
too hard, promise me you will not think of taking it.” 

“ I promise,” answered Bera. ” I am so glad to have 
this chance.” 

When Gertie came in the morning, Bera told her of the 
visit of the directors. 

“ There,” said Gertie, “ that is Fred Sterns. I told him 
about you, but he said, * Pooh ! a woman couldn’t manage 
the boys but he did not really think so, for he has told his 
father, and he always does just as Fred says.” 

“ Who is Dr. Daniel ?” asked Bera. 

” Oh ! he is the one that does it all,” said Gertie, naively. 
“ But, Mrs. Lyle, are you really going to teach us ?” 

” Perhaps, if Dr. Daniel says so,” returned Bera, smiling. 
“ Will you go with me to learn his pleasure ?” 

“ Oh ! yes,” and Gertie danced off. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

DR. DANIEL. 

Dr. Daniel kept a drug-store — at least there was a pre- 
tentious display of drugs in the front part ; but the most of 
his customers were served in a little room at the back of the 
establishment. He was one of the many men with enough 
manliness to be ashamed of his trade, but without the man- 


88 


BERA. 


hood to come out and own his vocation, and bear the stig- 
ma that society everywhere puts upon the saloon-keeper. 
License on drugs was cheaper ; so he sold the liquor and 
then talked loudly of crime and pauperism. In the flurries 
of temperance revivals he was the first to sign the pledge — 
he owned the hall where meetings were held, and urged the 
faltering to follow his gracious example. In the permanent 
organization that usually followed he figured as president, or 
a member of the committee to further the good work. Out 
in front of his store he carried the war faithfully on, while 
his clerk dispensed rations in the rear. He reviewed the 
rise of drunkenness from olden times to modern, convenient- 
ly pausing ere reaching later days. Not only on temper- 
ance, but on all mooted subjects Dr. Daniel was admirably 
well informed. No movement was successfully inaugurated 
without his direct consent and approval. All questions 
concerning history, poetry, physiology, and philosophy were 
referred to Dr. Daniel for settlement. He was never at a 
loss, but would stand for hours discoursing on mooted 
topics, his audience hardly the wiser, but firmly believing in 
his wisdom — if it were possible, more firmly than the doctor 
did himself. 

He was a Yankee from Connecticut ; but it was evident 
that fortune had favored him in allowing the family to reach 
there, for his reddish hair, eyes, and complexion pro- 
claimed him unmistakably Irish. 

Had Ireland or New York been gifted with his presence, 
he would have, doubtless, been digging potatoes or been 
Mayor. 

But fortune did not destine him to be unknown, so his 


DR. DANIEL. 


89 


mother scrubbed his face to a redder hue, and giving the 
string that upheld his nethef garments another twist, started 
“ Erin go Bragh” to the Connecticut free schools. 

Here he rapidly developed those traits of character that 
were to distinguish his after-life. Having learned all his 
teachers could teach him, he determined to depart for the 
West, where he had heard that enterprising youths could 
climb to the summit with rapidity. His wardrobe in his 
pocket, not deigning to bid his mother farewell — for was she 
not Irish ? — Connecticut knew him no more. 

He tried teaching as the first step upward, and rapidly 
passed from district school to district school, and finally 
drifted to Carbon, whose isolation seemed to favor his de- 
termination to be a great man. 

Fortune still clung to her favorite child and he married 
into one of the best families, and his position was secured. 
He was elected Squire, Alderman, and School Commis- 
sioner, and before this august personage Bera was to appear. 
Dr. Daniel was sitting before his emporium, the picture of 
rotund beneficence. Bera explained her errand, adding : 

“ Mr. Rush and Mr. Sterns leave it all to you.” 

Dr. Daniel swelled with importance. 

“ Set down.” Bera made a mental note. 

“ The question of education is one of such importance, 
that it is well left to them who have devoted their lives to it. 
The question of opening the doors of our public schools to 
females is a dubious one,” he continued pompuously, ‘‘a 
new departure, I should say. Why, ’ ’ warming to his task, ‘ 4 in 
the ancient and middle ages” — the doctor was renowned for 
referring to the middle ages — ‘ ‘ woman was considered a 


9 ° 


BERA. 


nonentity by men, with very little intellectual brain-power — a 
view that I am inclined to believe had better been retained 
and the doctor paused. 

“ But what of the noted women of those days, such as 
Zenobia and Pulcheria ?” 

“ Who ?” ejaculated the doctor. 

“ I was referring to two women who were not nonen- 
tities.” 

“ Oh !” — a long breath — “ I remember them now and 
he twitched his mammoth watch-chain uneasily. 

‘ ‘ What do you say about the school ?’ ’ asked Bera. 

“ It’s a new departure,” said the doctor, slowly recov- 
ering himself ; ‘ ‘ the boys would turn you out the first day, 
not used to having a woman over ’em.” 

” Well, they turned out a man, so I would be as safe from 
that as a man. ’ ’ 

“ It’s a new departure, but guess you know enough,” re- 
luctantly, “ and teachers are scarce ; may be we can’t do any 
better, and we must have a school.” 

“ Then you accept ?” 

“ Well, it is a new departure, and pr-et-ty risky, but we 
can try it. ’ ’ 

“ What are your terms ?” Bera asked briefly. 

Instantly the doctor was on the alert ; here was a chance 
to save taxes, and thereby raise himself in the estimation of 
his supporters. All minor questions were lost in the financial 
aspect of getting a teacher cheap. 

“ Well, seeing that it’s a new departure we might give you 
thirty-five dollars,” said this high-minded sage of Carbon. 


DR. DANIEL. 91 

“ But you gave Mr. Mangletree a hundred,” remon- 
strated Bera. 

“ He’s a man,” said the doctor concisely. 

“ And a failure,” retorted Bera. 

“ You’re a woman,” asserted the doctor. 

‘‘ And you, a man, have the power to grind me as low as 
you can because I am a woman,” exclaimed Bera indig- 
nantly. 

‘‘It’s a new departure,” mumbled the doctor, “ and we 
can’t pay high for a new departure.” 

‘‘Very well, I accept the terms,” answered Bera, de- 
cidedly. 

The doctor’s eyes glistened. Here was an excellent 
election morsel to be carefully aired, in view of the spring 
election. But he restrained his exultation, and remarked : 

“ You, being a woman, will sweep, I suppose ?” 

‘‘No, sir,” answered Bera, and quietly rising started to 
leave the store. 

‘‘Stay,” he exclaimed, greatly alarmed lest the election 
item were slipping from his grasp, ‘ * we will hire a boy ; we 
always do; and,” hastening after her, for Bera had not 
stopped, ‘‘ I will give you forty dollars.” 

Bera hesitated; their need was sore, but her pride was 
aroused. 

‘‘ Well,” she said, coolly, after a moment’s pause, ‘‘ when 
shall I commence ?’ ’ 

“ Any time,” answered the doctor, the main point set- 
tled. 

“ To-morrow, then ;” and Bera bowed herself out. 

Dr. Daniel looked after her. 


9 2 


BERA . 


“ Well, well,” he muttered, “ how she did hurl those two 
names at me, but likely she had ’em all ready ! I’ll get even 
yet;” and the doctor caressed his wounded pride. ‘‘But 
didn’t I get her cheap ?” he chuckled. 

“ What success ?” asked Greek, when he returned. 

“ I commence to-morrow.” 

“Iam sorry ; I wish you had failed.” 

“ If you had been on the board with Dr. Daniel I 
should,” said Bera, laughing. 

“ And does he know so much ?” Greek asked. “ I hear 
him quoted more frequently as authority than Webster.” 

“ A very Daniel come to judgment and she gave a merry 
account of the morning’s experience. 


CHAPTER XX. 

“ THE NEW DEPARTURE.” 

“ Carbon Free School.” On the brow of the long, low, 
red brick this title looked down on the motley crowd of 
urchins below. The freedom was plainly visible in the sur- 
rounding yard — the schoolboy’s freedom to mar and deface. 
The fences, trees, and house had been carved by each gen- 
eration ere they went their way. 

The yelling, hooting mob of little heathen suddenly 
ceased their clamor as one of their number proclaimed, 
“ There she is !” as Bera came leisurely up the walk, and 
unlocking the door entered. 

The crowd of old^r boys who had taken possession of the 


“ THE NEW DEPARTURE. 


93 

4 

front fence tried hard to repress their curiosity, but direct- 
ly sauntered into the school-room. Here they gathered in 
groups, casting sly glances at the woman who dared attempt 
what a man had failed to do. 

“ Where is the janitor ?” Bera asked a small boy. 

“ Over there,” pointing out an overgrown, malicious-look- 
ing boy, who was obliged to economize room to get into his 
seat. 

“ Tell him to come here ?” 

Presently he came, his hands in his pockets and rather an 
insolent look upon his face. 

Bera looked full at him. 

“ This floor is not clean ; you will do better next time. 
The blackboards also need rubbing ; we must inconvenience 
ourselves while you attend to it now.” 

For a moment the boy regarded her with unconcealed 
amazement, then turned and took the brush and slowly put 
it to the board ; hesitated, then turned on his heel and faced 
Bera. 

There he read in the steady look the belief that she 
would be obeyed, and he went vigorously to work as if it had 
always been a part of his intention to obey. 

This performed, Bera remarked, “ The scholars will now 
select th^ir seats, subject to rearrangement by classes.” 

There was a subdued bustle, and some whispered threats 
that under Mr. Mangletree’s rule would have been executed 
then and there ; but there was a look in the new teacher’s 
eye that followed their movements and quieted the most tur- 
bulent. A boy, with hair shorn close to his head, approached 
Bera and said sulkily : 


94 


BERA. 


‘ ‘ I want to set there, ’ ’ pointing to an alcove nearly behind 
her desk and already overflowing with the larger scholars. 

“ Why ?” asked Bera. 

The question evidently startled the secret from the boy. 

“ ’Cause so I can slip out easy and then, frightened at 
what he had done, glanced uneasily at the larger boys, who, 
with clinched fists, were telling him in pantomime what he 
might expect at recess. 

“ In a few days those seats will be the most undesirable 
in the room,” returned Bera, coolly. 

Rapidly the work of organizing proceeded under the reso- 
lute hand of the woman who had not known the latent power 
within her. 

A rapid review of the younger scholars to determine their 
places, and then she turned to the corner where the older 
boys were congregated. 

To Bera the stillness partook of expectancy, and looking 
over the group, her eye fell upon a boy who sat nearest her, 
and who evidently sat there for a purpose. 

Of medium proportions and rather pugilistic build, Bera 
saw at a glance that it meant a challenge. 

His peculiar face was absolutely colorless, the intense 
whiteness extending to and including the eyelashes, that would 
curl upon the cheek if ever they were allowed to close over 
the large light-blue eyes. The eyebrows and hair were of 
the same deathly white, and the whole countenance presented 
an utterly expressionless blank. 

“ Your name?” said Bera quietly to this phenomenon. 

“ Frost.” The lips moved, but not a muscle relaxed. 

“ Frost what ?” 


“ THE NEW DEPARTURE. 


95 


“ Frost Bit, ever since I got left out in the cold.” 

Bera chronicled the name, paying no attention to the 
item. 

“Age ?” 

“ Sixteen.” The cold blue eyes were a trifle wider be- 
cause this calm little lady evidently believed him. 

“Studies ?” 

He moved uneasily, but the face remained emotionless. 

“ I didn’t bring my books” — after a moment. A sup- 
pressed laugh followed, but not at the teacher, as they sup- 
posed it would be, but at her victim. 

The laugh was too much for the boy. 

“ Here’s my book,” he said defiantly, and without taking 
his eyes 'from Bera’s face, he laid a pack of dirty cards on 
the desk. 

Bera looked steadily at him. 

“ Have you studied arithmetic ?” 

“ I don’t like it.” The unwinking eyes stared at her. 

“ Grammar ?” 

“Yes ’um, I can parse.” 

“ Select some noun from this sentence and parse it. The 
man and boy were stoned to death.” 

“ Death is a noun, and agreed with the man who died.” 

4 4 Take that seat with the lower class, ’ ’ and Bera looked at 
the next. 

The boy arose, never taking his chilling eyes from her. 

44 Don’t put me there.” 

“ Why ?” a touch of sternness creeping into her voice. 

44 ’Cause the sun will fade me so.” 

In spite of the boy’s own banter Bera detected a sensitive- 


9 6 


BERA. 


ness in regard to his appearance, and she answered pleas- 
antly, “ Nothing could be more to your advantage ; many 
of our greatest men have been very light ;” and her manner 
plainly indicated that she was through with him. 

“ He is the key to the school,” she thought ; “ if I can 
conquer him I am secure.” And the rest were rapidly dis- 
posed of, for where Frost had failed, none dared to tread. 

The task before Bera was a herculean one. Careless, in- 
different, listless, lazy, how could they be aroused to take an 
interest even in themselves ? 

‘‘Good order first, and then good lessons.” The first 
few weeks were devoted to the former, and when that was 
accomplished Bera was surprised to find that goodjessons 
had come also. 

Frost had been conquered. Unable to stand the loss of 
his leadership, he had gone manfully to Bera and requested 
to be placed in the proper classes, where, as she had sup- 
posed, he stood at the head. 

“ Boys,” he said on the playground, “ we’ve got a good 
’un in there at last, and I order the first feller ducked that 
makes her feel bad ;” and having explained his position re- 
quired every boy to fulfil it promptly. 


A TYPE OF THE MIDDLE AGES. 


97 


CHAPTER XXI. 

A TYPE OF THE MIDDLE AGES. 

Zeal and energy were fully inaugurated in the school. 
The alcove was filled with younger scholars, who gloried in 
well-filled pockets, the result of the trade. It was an un- 
heard-of fact in the annals of the old red brick, but the 
boys gave as a reason “ that there was so much going on, 
they could not see it all.” With much skill and masterly 
execution Bera managed to present something new each day 
that kept their interest and curiosity excited, and rendered 
being “ kept out” the best threat of the town to secure 
good conduct at home. 

In scholarly attainments they were terribly backward, hav- 
ing been “ through and through” the books, but as Frost 
quaintly remarked, ‘‘We never had to remember our les- 
sons.” 

Gertie Hallet, who had developed into lovely girlhood, 
gave material aid in her effort to introduce quiet, orderly 
habits. Her power was acknowledged ; not a boy but shared 
his gum-drops with her, and the reddest, rosiest apple was 
hers by right. These were divided with the other girls, who 
were never jealous, but accorded it to Gertie by reason of 
her superiority. 

Three months of active, earnest labor for teacher and 
scholars had passed away, and Bera was proud of her school. 


9 8 


BERA. 


One day Dr. Daniel appeared, his round, conceited face 
rounder and more conceited by reason of the adulation 
usually accorded him by the scholars. 

With a critical eye he watched the work of the school-room 
move on without a jar under the eye and hand of a woman. 
Dr. Daniel hated Bera for her success. She had no business 
to accomplish more than a man had. All the reports of satis- 
faction from parents and children were as gall to his narrow, 
bigoted mind. And now, armed for the conquest, he had 
come determined to break this mysterious power and usurpa- 
tion by a woman. 

At the close of the usual routine, after the custom of the 
place, Bera courteously asked the doctor to address the 
school. 

The next half hour was one of misery to Bera. All the 
refined, ennobling traits of character which she had sought 
to engraft were rudely and grossly violated by this specimen 
of the genus man. She was relieved when he was through 
with morality and religion, and turned to school studies. 
“By the act of breathing we live,” he announced; “but 
can any of these boys and girls tell me, that as the windmill 
is driven by wind, what machinery, wonderful in its mechan- 
ism, does our breath drive ?” 

“ The tongue,” said Frost laconically. 

For one moment the doctor was nonplussed ; then, swell- 
ing with indignation, he asked scornfully, “ Did Mrs. Lyle 
teach you to be impertinent ?” 

“ No, sir, but you did.” 

Bera flashed a warning glance at Frost, whose unchange- 
able face was turned innocently towards the doctor. 


A TYPE OF THE MIDDLE AGES. 


99 


He fumed helplessly a minute, and then, being wise 
enough to appreciate the result of his teaching, continued : 

“ As I was saying, the breath is the wind-power that keeps 
in motion the heart, that drives around and around the 
blood, in that stupendous march called the circulation of the 
blood, discovered by — ” but turning suddenly on Bera with 
this prepared missile to betray her ignorance, “ I suppose 
you don’t know who, though you have been trying to teach 
these young minds ?” 

“ Harvey,” answered Bera quietly. 

The doctor stared, then remembering he had his repu- 
tation to sustain before these eighty scholars, hastily re- 
sumed — 

“Yes, Harvey discovered that grand march of the blood, 
but — perhaps your teacher has told you about it,” suspi- 
ciously. 

Obedient to a movement of Bera’s hand the whole school 
in perfect unison recited the ” grand march” without a fail- 
ure. 

Dr. Daniel was stunned — was this his victory ? — and, per- 
spiring profusely, seated himself, while Bera tapped the bell 
and the scholars passed out in orderly rows. 

The doctor’s prestige was slipping from him, and giving 
Bera a black look, he stalked from the house. His rapid walk 
became slower as he cogitated the feasibility of withdrawing 
Bera from the school, but prudence whispered that the at- 
tendant risk would be too great for himself, so he reluctantly 
dismissed the idea, and the school continued its good work. 


IOO 


BERA. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

THE STRIKE. 

During these months it became evident that the stock- 
holders of the C. and M. C. Railroad meant to save them- 
selves at the expense of the employes. The disquiet and 
murmuring grew louder. General Brenfield, his sympathy 
with the men, yet owing the stockholders the best return he 
could make them, was harassed on every side. As the dis- 
content grew and caused the men to become turbulent he 
issued a bulletin order, detailing the causes, and the hope of 
speedy settlement, encouraging the men to wait patiently ; 
promising those who did, the good opinion of all officials ; 
and those who were in any way guilty of fomenting a 
strike, immediate and summary dismissal. 

“ I fear it will do no good,” Greek said. “ I am the only 
engineer who has not given his consent to a strike. Dred 
Chislar’s influence is unbounded ; and Tom Dixon, who has 
no work, keeps them constantly stirred up. I think Mr. 
Dalton is fearful of the result, and is on the alert to detect 
the least symptom. But the rascals at the bottom will be 
the last caught. I tell you this, but it must go no farther. 
The men’s tempers are strained to the utmost ; but,” notic- 
ing the pallor on Bera’s face, “ we need not fear any harm if 
we keep quiet.” 

That night Frost was startled from his lessons by the 


THE STRIKE. 


ioi 


white face of Bera. “ Frost, Mr. Lyle should have been 
home two hours ago ; something is wrong. Will you go with 
me to the shops ? I fear — ” and her voice broke in a pitiful 
quiver. 

“ Never mind, Mrs. Lyle, we will soon find him,” said 
Frost reassuringly, as he hurried on his coat and hastily 
followed her. 

All was grim and dark in the buildings looming before 
them, save the watchman’s lantern, that from its resident 
position proclaimed him to be asleep. 

Frost led the way to the back of the buildings, where was 
a long, low shed devoted to oils and stores. Here they 
paused, and Bera quietly pushed open the door and entered 
alone. 

Before her, in the feeble light of two or three lanterns, 
she saw thirty or forty men conversing in low tones, and 
from the frequent imprecations something had gone wrong. 
Directly among the confused voices she heard Dred Chislar. 

“ Come, now, we won’t wait much longer ; say you will 
join us, or, by thunder, we will tie you to your engine and 
send her out at sixty miles an hour for the river switch. I 
tell you we mean business.” 

Had an angel with white robes and rustling wings dropped 
into their midst the men would not have been more aston- 
ished than they were at the apparition of the calm, resolute 
woman who advanced and stood at Greek Lyle’s side. 

He was bound hand and foot, at the mercy of those un- 
principled men. 

” Who is she ?” whispered the men. 

“ It is his wife and a smothered curse from Dred Chis- 
lar reached Bera. 


102 


BERA . 


“ Men, why are you here ?” Her voice was clear and dis- 
tinct. 

“ For our rights !” said a voice in the momentary still- 
ness. 

“ And we’ll have them in spite of such white-handed 
gentry as you.” 

The threatening accent did not escape Bera. 

‘ ‘ And in obtaining your rights you are trying to take the 
rights of my husband — his right as a man to be allowed to 
shape his own ways and acts. Shame !” and Bera laid her 
hand upon the bonds confining his hands. 

‘ ‘ He is in sympathy with the stockholders, ’ ’ — menacingly. 

“Why ?” 

“ Because he is a gentleman, and won’t strike.” 

“What a reason!” said Bera scornfully. “And if he 
were in sympathy with them what is that to you, that you 
should force him against his will to unite with you ? Think, 
who are the stockholders ? Men who have invested their all 
in this road, trusting that the income — their bread and butter, 
remember — would return to them as regularly as you looked 
for the pay-car. And with good right. These stock- 
holders for over five years have made it possible for you to 
live at their expense. And if, in the fear of seeing them- 
selves impoverished, they have kept the earnings for the last 
few months, bear the burden like men, and not like chil- 
dren.” 

“ Guess you dun’no what ’tis to be poor and not know 
where to-morrow’s bread is coming from,” said one of the 
men sneeringly. 

“ Let me tell you,” said Bera slowly, “ that in the years 


THE STRIKE. 


103 


since we have been among you we have tasted the dregs of 
poverty more bitterly than any of you. I knew nothing of the 
ways and means of making forty dollars pay rent, feed and 
clothe two ; and while I was learning, and the last cent had 
been paid out, rather than run in debt we have lived many 
days on bread and milk. Who of you have done that ?” 

“ Not one of us,” responded a manly voice. 

“ None of you,” resumed Bera, “ have been obliged to 
live on less than we have. The most of you have earned 
and been paid from fifty to one hundred and fifty dollars a 
month for the last five, ten, even twenty years. And who, 
when this misfortune fell upon you had a dollar ahead ?” 

The silence was suggestive that the truth had gone home. 

“Men,” continued Bera, earnestly, “you are to blame 
for your present condition, and not the stockholders. They 
furnished you with work at good wages, you took those 
wages, and where did they go ? Your wives and children 
got but a paltry share — common living, common clothes ; and 
the rest went to the tobacco stands, bar-rooms, and brothels. 
I know what I am saying when I arraign you before your 
own consciences and say that prodigal, shameless waste, 
and not the stockholders, is the great enemy of railroad men. 
Every man, according to his wages and family, should save 
something each month — no matter how little, but some- 
thing.” 

“ How much did you save ?” asked the taunting voice of 
Tom Dixon. 

“We saved a hundred each year,” answered Bera quietly. 

“ Why do you teach ?” asked a voice bluntly. 

“ If I had not, what we had saved must have gone ; and 


104 


BERA. 


it means to us, as it would to you and your wives, every 
hope in the future.” And for the first Bera’s voice trem- 
bled. 

“ Come, we have had enough of this,” said Dred Chislar, 
roughly ; “ young woman, you had better go home, or we 
will tie you up with him.” 

“ Shame !” exclaimed a number of men ; “ don’t touch a 
woman. ’ ’ 

“ Thank you,” said Bera quietly. “ And, men, listen to 
reason. A few more days of waiting, and you will be glad 
you did not take this step. It would be fatal to every one 
of you. Not one would ever run another engine on this 
road, and your reputation as a striker would follow you 
wherever you went, inspiring distrust. Promise me that you 
will wait at least two weeks longer.” 

“ Mrs. Lyle is right,” spoke one of the men ; “ and I, 
for one, am willing to wait.” 

“ And 1 — and I.” The responses were proof that most 
of the men had been touched by her appeal. 

‘‘And now my husband is free;” and Bera’s fingers 
swiftly untied the bonds and released him from his painful 
position, where he had lain listening in amazement to the in- 
trepid words of his wife. 

“ Remember, men, your promise is sacred,” said Bera, 
as she turned to the door. 

“ And by what promise are we to know that you won’t 
give us away ?” interposed Dred Chislar, moving in front of 
them. 

“ By our honor !” said Greek scornfully. And a dozen 
hands drew the ruffian back and allowed them to pass. 


THE STRIKE. 


io 5 

In her excitement Bera did not notice the absence of 
Frost, but clung to Greek, for her strength had been sorely- 
tried. 

“ Oh Bera !” — Greek’s voice was choked with emotion — 
“ how I trembled for you, my brave darling. You do not 
know, as I do, how lawless Dred Chislar and Tom Dixon 
are, or you would not have dared.” 

“It is over now,” said Bera, shaking with nervous ex- 
citement, ‘ ‘ and I am very tired ; let us hurry home. ’ ’ 

The next morning Greek was busy with his engine when 
word came that he was wanted in the office. 

Mr. Dalton glanced up as he entered. 

“ There was a meeting of the strikers last night ; who was 
the leader besides Tom Dixon ?” 

“ I cannot tell you, sir,” answered Greek respectfully. 

“ What I” Mr. Dalton spoke sternly. “ Do you know 
that in absence of other information I must presume you 
were ?’ * 

“ Still I cannot tell,” said Greek firmly. 

Mr. Dalton turned to his desk and wrote a few moments, 
then handing a paper to Greek, said, “ There is your time- 
check. I am disappointed in you, Lyle.” 

Greek finished his work and then went home to tell Bera. 


io6 


BERA. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

GERTIE. 

In the school-room that afternoon Bera went through the 
usual routine, sick at heart ; for dreary enough was the pros- 
pect before them, and all for the sake of honor. 

At the close Frost lingered. 

“ You look awful bad, Mrs. Lyle. What is the matter ?” 

The kindly words sent the tears to her eyes. 

“ Now, don’t,” said Frost, much distressed. “ I didn’t 
mean to make you feel worse. ’ ’ 

“You did not, for I am better now. My husband was 
discharged this morning.” 

“ What for ?” ejaculated Frost. 

“ Because he would not tell what occurred last night.” 

“ Why didn’t he ?” asked Frost bluntly. 

“ Because it would not be honorable, ” said Bera, smiling, 
in spite of the shining drops on her lashes, at the incredulity 
in his face. 

He thought a few moments, and then asked : 

“ I say now, suppose a feller knew all about it, not being 
took nor invited in, would it hurt his honor to tell of it ?” 

” No ; then it would be his duty to tell of it to keep the 
innocent from being punished,” answered Bera, thinking it 
but a nice point for Frost’s own improvement, who nodded 
and took himself off. 


GERTIE. 107 

Greek was waiting for her when she returned, and they 
quietly discussed their hard position. 

“ What are we to do, Greek ?” 

“ I do not know.” 

A knock at the door startled them, and upon opening it a 
man from the shops handed in a note. 

Knowing that Damocles’ sword had already fallen, and 
nothing worse could happen, he opened it stoically and 
read — 

“ Lyle : Through other sources I have learned that your 
presence last night was compulsory by the very man who in- 
formed against you. Your refusal to give information is 
overlooked, and you will take No. 8 on your usual run Mon- 
day. Yours, 

“ R. S. Dalton.” 

“ Who could have told him ?” said Greek gladly. 

“ Frost !” said Bera, the meaning of his question flashing 
over her. 

Never did a day of rest come more opportunely than the 
following Saturday. As Greek was not going out till Mon- 
day, he was taking advantage of his “lay-off” to put in 
some little conveniences for Bera about the house. In an 
easy-chair she sat listening to the hammer, whose every 
stroke spoke of love for her. 

“ Mrs. Lyle.” And Gertie touched her arm. 

Bera turned, startled. “Why, Gertie, what is the mat- 
ter ?” And Gertie broke into convulsive weeping. 

Bera put her arm about her — “ Now, tell me, dear.” 

Gertie grew calmer, and laying her head on Bera, sobbed — 


io8 


BERA. 


“ I am going away from mamma and you, and — ” 

“There, there, don’t sob so,” said Bera soothingly; 
“ are you going away to school ?” 

“ No, not that ; how I wish it was ! You have seen Mr. 
Hayward ?” questioningly. 

Bera had — an evil, low-browed man, with the polished 
manners of a gentleman, and in some way connected with the 
scandal circulating concerning Mrs. Hallet, but, though she 
knew he came and went, she had never cared, for Gertie’s 
sake, to know more. 

Gertie went on, her hands twitching nervously. 

“ He brought mamma a letter last night, and mamma 
turned so white and wild, and then cried all night. So this 
morning when she came to me there were great knots on 
her forehead, and looking, oh ! so frightened, told me I 
must save her ; and then she caught me in her arms and cried 
so hard. Then Mr. Hayward knocked at the door, and 
mamma went out, and when she came back she stood so 
coldly, and did not touch me, while she said I must marry 
Mr. Hayward.” 

“ Why, Gertie !” and Bera closed her arms about her, as 
if perchance she might save her from such a fate. 

Gertie was perfectly calm now, and continued : 

“ Mamma said I might tell you, and ask you and Mr. 
Greek to come and see me married ; that you were to be 
trusted, and no one must know.” 

“ O Gertie ! and must you obey her in this ?’ 

‘ * I must, for, ’ * naively, ‘ ‘ someway I will save my mam- 
ma. 

“ But why does Mr. Hayward ask for such a sacrifice ?” 


GERTIE. 


109 


“ I have not seen him,” answered Gertie simply. 

Bera was perplexed ; that a terrible wrong was being 
done she had no doubt, but who could prevent it ? 

‘‘You will come ?” urged Gertie. 

‘‘Yes,” said Bera suddenly, ” I will come, and if your 
mamma will let me, I will go over and dress you. ’ ’ 

“ I would like that,” said Gertie gratefully, 4 ‘ and I must 
go now. Mamma said come at nine ; but you will come 
sooner, and Mr. Lyle then. ’ And with a fervent kiss she 
went out, her slow step contrasting painfully with the trip- 
ping girlish one. 

Bera went out and told Greek, who exclaimed decidedly : 

“ Why, it is worse than murder if all or even part they 
tell is true. I doubt if we ought to encourage it by our 
presence. Indeed, little wife, it is all wrong, and ‘ evil com- 
munications, ’ you know.” 

“ Gertie is not evil at least, and for her sake let us go,” 
pleaded Bera ; “ she has been sunlight to me many dreary 
days, and if we cannot shield her from her fate, we need 
not hurt her sensitive heart by staying away. Besides, it is 
so secret, none will know, for Mrs. Hallet will never tell.” 

“ Well,” said Greek, reluctantly, ‘ 4 do as you think best, 
for you are always right.” And he smiled at the wife who 
had cost him so dear, and yet had fully repaid him. 

Bera put the finishing touches to Gertie’s toilet, and fas- 
tened some white pansies in her hair. 

Then she went to the deep mirror and looked at herself 
with none of that girlish delight in their own loveliness. 
She lifted her hand and touched the pansies. 

” I think I ought not to wear these,” she said seriously, 


no 


BERA. 


4 4 they have such truthful faces ; and what I say to-night will 
not be true.” 

44 Gertie, ought you to do this ?” exclaimed Bera, as the 
feeling of wrong overpowered her. 

Gertie turned her wondering eyes to her. 

44 You forget I am to save my mamma. Will you please 
take out the flowers ?’ ’ 

Bera unfastened the cluster and laid them in water. 

Gertie watched her curiously. 4 4 Why are you saving 
them ?” she asked. 

Bera lifted her startled face. 44 Why, Gertie, what do you 
mean ?’ ’ 

44 Nothing now,” said Gertie wearily, 44 only I thought that 
you were thinking some one might be dead, and need them.” 

44 No,” returned Bera quietly, 44 I was thinking that their 
pureness was but an emblem of my Gertie’s purity.” And 
she put her arm about her and held her closely. 

44 Did you think that? I am glad you love me, Mrs. 
Lyle.” And the listless hands dropped at her side. 

Directly there was a footstep on the stair, and Bera kissed 
the sweet lips once more and went down. Mrs. Hallet was 
in the room, a cold hauteur pervading every movement, 
but gracefully conversing with Greek and the clergyman, 
who was a stranger to Bera. The blinds and curtains were 
closely drawn that no one outside could suspect what was 
about to transpire. 

The clergyman gave a start of surprise as the ill-mated 
couple entered the room. Mr. Hayward, full forty, the 
hard lines of evil photographed in his face, made the fair 
child beside him only the more innocent and childlike. 


GERTIE. 


Ill 


The solemn services began, and as if a premonition of evil 
was in the air the clergyman lingered, as if loth to seal the 
sacred vows. 

Not a muscle relaxed in Mrs. Hallet’s well-bred face as 
she sacrificed her child. It was over ; but there were no 
greetings, for Gertie shrank from the mother she had saved, 
and the awkward silence was broken by the violent clanging 
of the door-bell. 

In a moment the old negro serving-woman burst into the 
room, closely followed by a heavy-set, determined-looking 
man, exclaiming — 

“ Massa Hallet am come. O missus, he am come !” 

44 Hush, you fool !” said Mrs. Hallet between her clinched 
teeth, and then in icy pride turned to the intruder, who 
stood looking about with a sarcastic smile. 

44 You are unexpected, brother Jonas, but you join us at 
a fortunate time. Allow me to present you to my son-in- 
law, Hugh Hayward.” 

The man stared at her dazed, and then at Gertie, who had 
gone over to Bera. Recovering himself, he thundered : 

44 Lavinia Hallet, of all your wickedness this is the 
worst !” 

44 I see no wickedness in allowing my daughter to marry 
the man who loves her.” 

The man sprang at her, and laying his hand heavily upon 
her, hissed : 

44 You have foiled me again, Mrs. Hallet, and now I shell 
take my revenge. You have hardly told your lovely daugh- 
ter what an imp of darkness her mother is ?” 

44 Mercy !” shrieked Mrs. Hallet, losing her self-corn- 


1 1 2 


BERA. 


mand, and the purple veins swollen nearly to bursting j “ she 
is innocent ; Spare her, if you will not me !” 

“ Strange mercy you have had upon her, to give her body 
and soul to that villain, though doubtless she is enough like 
her mother not to object. You did not spare her, nor shall 
I. Listen, Gertrude Hallet, while I tell you of your mother 
and your husband there.” 

Astonished and uncertain, Greek made a movement to 
withdraw, but Gertie clung to Bera. 

“ Do not leave me alone,” she begged. 

Her mother was there, and yet she was alone. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

DEATH — IN THE SPRING. 

A strange group, thus gathered in that room : the cler- 
gyman startled and shocked ; Greek, near Bera, with folded 
arms looked on the scene, not comprehending its import ; 
Bera, her fair hair and violet eyes against the rich, dusky 
black of Gertie’s clustering hair and deep, soulful eyes, as 
she half leaned upon her ; Mr. Hayward, resting carelessly 
upon the mantle, looked steadily into the grate, where a few 
coals flickered faintly ; Mrs. Hallet cowering, as if to ward 
off the expected blow ; and the dark, revengeful man, who 
would not spare them. 

“Sixteen years ago,” he began in measured tones, the 
better to grind the miserable woman before him, ‘ ‘ my half- 


DEATH— IN THE SPRING. 113 

brother, a gray-haired old dotard, fell in love with and mar- 
ried — her,” pointing to Mrs. Hallet. 

“ You were beautiful, Lavinia Hallet, and very young. 
Who would have believed the devil’s own was hidden under 
such beauty ! I had little reason for liking you, for you had 
come between me and my brother’s large fortune. I have 
no shame in stating the truth, for you had married him for 
the same gold. You had been poor — so poor that you went 
out sewing for a pitiful price into homes where you learned 
the power of wealth, and then sold yourself to gain it. I 
must go back a little, and state that ere winning the true 
heart of an honorable man you had an adorer in a man as 
low and poor as yourself, and much more vile. He urged 
you on in your fiendish work, well knowing that he would 
have a share. With smiles as false as the heart that prompted 
them, you fooled the old man you called husband, and gave 
of his store to your evil genius. I bided my time well : it 
would come, and come it did, and I went to my brother 
and told him all. He shuddered as in the chill of death, 
but gave you no sign or word till a few months later he was 
dead, and the will told you that if ever by word or deed 
Hugh Hayward became the recipient of your bounty as wife 
or mistress, you and the unborn child lost all right to the 
property so left. His love for you died hard, or even that 
chance had not been granted you. I was exultant, for I 
knew your evil heart and the night-bat that would hunt you 
to your ruin. But you foiled me at every step ; Gertie was 
born, and though with spies about you, I could gain no hold 
upon you that would disinherit. While absent on business 
seven years ago you eluded me, taking all bonds and moneys 


BERA. 


114 

with you, fled, and until a week ago I never heard of you. 
But now I am here, only to see a daughter betrayed as a 
husband was, by a shameless, unprincipled woman and 
mother, to save herself.” 

Gertie, white as sculptured marble, glided across the room, 
and put out her hand, but did not touch her mother. 

“ Mamma, is this true ?” 

A convulsive shudder, and the wretched woman gasped, 
“Yes.” 

Gertie reeled, and as Bera sprang to catch her, the bridal 
robes were dyed a crimson hue, and she lay as one dead in 
Bera’s arms. 

A shriek of agony from Mrs. Hallet as she turned on her 
brother. 

“You have killed my child — you and I. O, my pure, 
tender blossom ! we never meant the marriage should be 
more than a defence to us. You drove us to it ; we heard 
you were coming to wrench the wealth, for which I had 
sold myself, from me.” 

“ Mrs. Hallet, hush !” said Bera gently. 

She crept near, but did not offer to touch her child, who 
opened her eyes and looked at Bera ; then a sweet smile 
played over her face, but as the past returned a shiver crept 
over her. 

“ Mamma.’ 

Mrs. Hallet bent over her in tearless agony. 

“ I — am dying ; when I am gone — you will not be afraid — 
of poverty, poverty with — honor : tell me, mamma ?’ ’ 

“ No, my murdered darling — no, no,” answered the 
wretched woman. 


DEATH— IN THE SPRING. 


”S 

“ Uncle — nearer” — Mr. Hallet, subdued by the horror he 
had wrought, knelt beside her — “you will not let mamma 
suffer ?” 

44 No, child, and forgive me. I did not think that she 
could have so pure a child and his voice was broken. 

“ Mr. Hayward,” — he who had not moved during the 
entire scene came forward , — 44 when I am dead promise 
me you will marry my mamma, before you move me — prom- 
ise.” And in her effort to read his face the hemorrhage 
rushed over her lips. 

Mr. Hayward turned to Mr. Hallet : 44 For what will you 
compromise ?” 

Bera looked with horror at the man who could be so 
heartless, and Greek clinched his hand with the wish to 
punish him for his brutality. 

But Gertie looked at her uncle, who arose, and said with 
suppressed passion : 

44 I will give you twenty thousand for the sake of this dying 
girl, but if ever you cross my path you shall suffer for this.” 

44 Promise,” gasped Gertie. 

44 I promise,” he answered, and stepped back to his former 
position, regardless of all around him. 

Bera bent over the dying girl, her tears falling in tender 
love and pity for this sweet, young life sacrificed to sin. 

44 Teacher — put — the pansies in my — hand, and — kiss — 
me — mamma ;” and the head rested heavily on Bera's arm, 
and Gertie was dead. 

Still supporting her, Bera turned and looked questioningly 
at Mr. Hayward. Greek touched him. 

44 She is dead,” he said. 


BERA. 


116 

Mr. Hayward came forward and took the hand of Mrs. 
Hallet. 

“ We are ready,” he said to the clergyman. 

He hesitated, the whole scene having completely bewil- 
dered him. 

“ Marry them,” said Mr. Hallet sternly ; and in fear and 
uncertainty, for the second time that night he uttered the 
sacred words that bound the guilty woman to the sinful man. 

Weird and unreal, the light sent its dull glow over the 
group, and rested in silent benediction on the upturned face 
of the dead girl. 

When it was all over Bera spoke to Greek, who bore the 
light form and laid it in the bridal chamber. 

The mother made no attempt to follow, and Bera, with 
the old negress, who moaned and wept over the “ sweet 
lam’,” gave the last care to the dead. 

The clergyman, who was from a distance, departed, carry- 
ing the secret of these unhappy lives locked in the recesses 
of his memory, with so many other sad trusts. 

The sudden and mysterious death of Mrs. Hallet’s beau- 
tiful child called forth the sympathy of the entire people. 
Very lovely the peaceful face looked, with its sweet sad 
smile, one little hand clasping the faded pansies, and all hearts 
were touched with compassion for the sorrowing mother. 
At the grave her sobbing schoolmates covered the turf with 
snowy blossoms, and the assembled multitude went their 
way, little dreaming of the sad tragedy enacted in their midst, 
whose fatal stroke fell upon the innocent. 

There was some speculation when, one morning, it was 
found that Mrs. Hallet was gone and the house rented. 


FROST . 


TI 7 

That evening, when Frost came for help about his lessons, 
he said, “ We are going in over there — aunt and I.” 

‘ ‘ Are you ? I am so glad, for I shall be so lonely without 
Gertie and her eyes filled with tears. 

“ I won’t take her place much,” — a suspicion of moisture 
in his eyes ; and then, * ‘ I went out there to-day and put on 
some fresh flowers, daisies and pansies — she always loved 
them so. ’ ’ 

Bera marvelled to hear this once reckless boy tell of put- 
ting flowers on Gertie’s grave. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

FROST. 

At the shops Greek had donned his working garb and 
rapidly put his engine in trim for the day’s trip. Busily 
engaged, he did not notice the approach of a man, until a 
paper was thrust before his face and a voice hissed : 

“ This is your honor, is it, and be damned to you ?” 

Greek saw a time-check, and turning encountered the 
angry, malignant-face of Dred Chislar. 

He straightened up and retorted : 

“ And who have I to thank for that ?” drawing out his 
own discharge-check. 

“ Me,” said the man, savagely, “ and it was but the first 
of a heavy reckoning against you and your — ” 

“ Stay,” said Greek, sternly, “you may threaten me as 


BERA. 


118 

much as you please, but if you take the name of my wife 
upon your lips the reckoning will be short and swift. Fur- 
thermore, you well know that I did not betray you ; and now 
will you step one side and let me finish my work ?” 

For a moment his face was the abode of a thousand furies, 
then he turned and strode away. 

A week later came the welcome tidings that the road had 
been sold to a capitalist of New York city, and in the future 
the men would be regularly paid. 

Had the employes learned their lesson as well as the 
stockholders ? 

No. Over and over again the same story is told, and yet 
the great body of railroad men go to the pay-car without a 
cent, and in debt. 

Capital ! The hue and cry of its oppression is the fa- 
vorite theme of agitators and thriftless men, and yet with 
its own brawny hands labor is crushing out its own power 
and life more surely than white-handed capital could, were 
it possessed of multiplied strength. In the ordinary con- 
dition of things, excepting always sickness and misfortune, 
a man who runs in debt on fifty dollars a month would do 
the same on a hundred, and be capable of dissipating thou- 
sands, and then die poor. Could some power place over the 
homes of all salary men, “ Save every day, every month, 
every year, something/’ soon in all our broad land would be 
found new life in strong thrift and earnestness. 

The middle of June, Bera bade farewell to her scholars, 
and weary body and mind gratefully turned to the shelter 
of home for rest. From the nervous sleeplessness that had 
grown upon her a heavy lethargy succeeded. With great 


FROST. 


119 

concern Greek watched her languid movements, and sought 
in every way to restore the old life that seemed slipping 
away. But the stupor increased, and in days and nights of 
heavy immovable slumber outraged nature sought to regain 
her own. 

One night, a click, click, clicking penetrated even this 
heavy slumber, and Bera stirred ; then lifting one arm above 
her head sank deeper into sleep. The clicking continued, 
but the helpless sleeper dreamed on. 

By and by there was a pause, and a smothered oath pro- 
claimed the dark figures, crouching at the door, baffled. On 
removing the lock the door had not yielded ; above and 
below were two huge bolts. 

A brief consultation ensued, and then their stealthy 
tread told that they were retreating, but only to choose an- 
other point of attack. On one side, the adjacent house 
with its windows made the passage a dubious one for the 
person wishing to guard against discovery. On the other a 
lattice-work had been put across to seclude the back yard. 
There was but one safe way, and that was down the street 
and up the alley. This was selected by the ill-omened 
forms, and they crept through the black darkness, but stim- 
ulated in their work of crime by the previous failure. 

When Engine 8 came in Frost stepped up to Greek and 
touched his hat. 

“ If you please, Mr. Lyle, I would like to speak with 
you.” 

“ All right, I will attend to you in a moment,” said Greek 
pleasantly, for this boy in his devotion to Bera stood high 
in his estimation. 


120 


BERA, 


“ You see, sir,” he began, “ when that strike was blowing 
up, and Mrs. Lyle struck ’em so hard, I knew Dred and 
Tom Dixon wouldn’t get over it lively, and I saw you was 
uneasy like, till they disappeared about a month ago. Well, 
this white head of mine can think, and I concluded that if 
you was easy I must be uneasy, for I knew that while them 
nightbirds was floatin’ there was danger to Mis’ Bera.” 

“ Why to Bera ?” demanded Greek, paling with dread. 

“ Why ? Because she did what no man could have done 
■ — ruined their plans ; besides, they knew any harm to her 
was worse than death to you.” 

“ Go on,” said Greek hoarsely. 

‘‘Well, I watched pretty closely, and went over to Mis’ 
Dixon’s every day, for I knew the first sign of em’ would be 
there. Yesterday I went in, an’ Mis’ Dixon was awful busy 
makin’ and bakin’ ; and thinks. I, Tom’s back. You see they 
don’t get much to eat at the penitentiary and hidin’ round, 
an’ the ol’ lady always gives ’em a good fill when they turns 
up. Well, I didn’t let on, but no bed saw me last night ; 
for I was kinder watching round, and I began to think I’d 
fooled myself, when I saw ’em both, Dred and Tom, crawl 
up to the front door.” 

Greek caught the boy by the arm. 

“ Where is Bera — is she safe ?” and a groan escaped him 
as a horrible fear overpowered him. 

‘‘Safe? I guess so. You don’t think any thing would 
happen to her with me there, do you ?” said the boy indig- 
nantly. 

‘‘ Pardon me, but I feared the worst.” 

‘‘Yes, I suppose so,” said the boy, mollified. ‘‘Well, 


FROST. 


121 


when they commenced working at the front door I just 
laughs to myself, for I remembered about them big bolts you 
put on, and knew it would be a bad job for them. But I 
didn’t go and tell them, for it suited me to let ’em hack, for 
I knew they would give it up an’ go to the back door, and I 
wanted time to give them a warm reception.” 

” Why did you not get help and capture them ?” asked 
Greek. 

“ Don’t you know there’s no dozen men in this town as 
would face Dred Chislar, and while I was hunting up the 
cowards who’d a took care of Mis’ Bera, I’d like to know ?” 

“ Go on,” said Greek impatiently. 

“ Be reasonable, an’ I will. Well, I knew they wouldn’t 
risk goin’ under Granny Spear’s window, and the lattice- 
work fixed ’em on the other side ; so I goes to the barn and 
gathers up hay and shavings and put ’em in the alley-way, 
and when I’d got a lot I spread ’em out some like a bed ; 
then I slipped in an’ got the ol’ ’Oman’s coal-oil can : it’s a 
big one, and had just been filled. Golly, wer’n’t she mad this 
morning when she saw it had all leaked out, but guess if 
she’d got down and smelled it she’d a thought it was pretty 
wet coal-oil ;” and he chuckled. 

” Go on,” said Greek anxiously. 

” Can’t you wait and let a feller breathe ? Well, I went 
by the barn and got Brindle’s rope, and some turpentine, and 
the powder I had hid in the hay, for aunt don’t like to have 
me buy such things, and I’m particular about pleasing her. 
If you ever was a boy, you know that rope got tied across the 
alley just high enough to take a feller where he walks, and, 
that turpentine and coal-oil gave that fodder a good wetting. 


122 


BERA. 


Then I laid a trail of powder to the shed so I could hide, 
for I knew it wouldn’t be good for me to get caught, an’ 
then I waited for ’em to come, for you see I was sure about 
them bolts.” 

Greek shuddered at the risk. 

44 Well, they came prowling up the alley, stumbling over 
old barrel hoops and broken buckets, and went to bed sud- 
denly on my hay. To be hospitable I just started a fire for 
’em. There was a flash, I tell you, and they was surrounded 
by fire ; and then there was tall scrambling done for a min- 
ute, and the way they howled and cussed as they run down 
the alley ! And I guess they won’t trouble you any more 
till they get over their scorching ; and then, Mr. Greek, just 
look out, for they will try it again ; and you take good care 
of Mis’ Bera, an’ don’t let her know about it and. before 
Greek could thank him the boy was off. 

Bera wondered at the close embrace that followed the 
usual kiss, never dreaming of the terrible danger that had 
shadowed her. 

She had found the door-knob off, and showed it to Greek. 

4 4 Pug Dixon must have done it : he is always in mischief, 
and they are so angry at us. He thought to frighten me ; but 
I was sleeping too soundly : he might have carried the house 
away and I been none the wiser. ’ ’ And she laughed lightly. 

And Greek let her frame her own reasons while he sought 
perplexedly for her future safety. 


REVENGE, 


123 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

REVENGE. 

Mr. Dalton looked up as Greek entered the office with 
a pleasant, “ Good-morning, you are just the man I wanted 
to see ; we are in a bad strait about an engineer. Bradford’s 
resigned, and none of the under-men are trustworthy enough 
to take his place. It is rather informal, but you are fully 
competent. What do you say to taking the passenger run ?” 

Greek was slightly bewildered. 

“ That is going up pretty fast, sir. Back East it would 
have taken me twenty years.” 

” Yes, but they never change men ; here the class of men 
requires constant change. But what do you say ?” 

“ I will take it, and thank you for the chance,” said Greek 
simply, ” but,” and he detailed the events of the night be- 
fore, and asked Mr. Dalton’s counsel. 

“ Why, put the officers after them, the rascals ; the boy’s 
evidence will convict them. Such lawless proceedings are 
too frequent here, and should be punished. I will back you, 
and we will catch them before they do more harm.” 

” I will do it, but in the meantime my wife is not safe, 
and I cannot leave her. ’ ’ 

Mr. Dalton thought a moment. 

” Take her with you a few trips ; the change will do her 
good. My wife was saying she looked badly. ’ ’ 

“ Thank you,” returned Greek, relieved ; ** I will report 
promptly.” 


124 


BERA. 


Bera had many objections to the proposed plan, but Greek 
overruled them all and she went with him. 

Cragsfort and Mount Crete were both thriving, populous 
places, inhabited by stirring, active people. Why on such 
a short road the shops had been located at a half-way place, 
and that point Carbon, was marvellous. Few of the better 
class of workmen were willing to isolate themselves where 
there were no advantages. Then, too, the location was 
awkward for well-regulated trips. Greek’s run »vas from 
Carbon south to Mount Crete, with a stay there of a few 
hours, and then north to Cragsfort and return to Carbon, 
where his “ lay-off ” was until the next evening. 

One morning, as they were leaving Mount Crete, Bera 
obtained permission from General Brenfield to go upon the 
engine. 

“ I want to see what makes engineers so reckless,” she 
said, laughing, as Greek lifted her to the high seat. Greek 
showed her the parts of the engine and how the monster was 
made to go, and again to obey the will of the one at the 
lever. As they drew out, the early morning was still shrouded 
by the masses of clouds that let fall a continuous drizzle. 
Through the murky light the engine plunged, carrying its 
burden of human life. 

Bera instinctively caught for support as the heaving mon- 
ster tramped the rails. 

At the first station she drew a long breath, and said to 
Greek : 

“ It is fearful : one can imagine it lives as it goes headlong 
in its career, every plunge, perhaps, its last, yet recovering 
itself with almost human forethought. ’ ’ 


REVENGE. 


I2 5 


I do not wonder the men grow careless, ” she thought to 
herself ; ‘ ‘ they grow so familiar with this constant presence 
of death ; another turn of the wheel and all may be over, 
without time to think. ’ ’ 

After the northern-bound freight had passed a low 
swampy portion of the country two men made their ap- 
pearance, and worked their way through fallen trees and un- 
derbrush, evidently well informed in regard to the country. 

Close to the railroad was the heavy growth of wild wood- 
land, and it was the duty of the section-men to remove all 
trees that were in danger of falling across the track. Why, 
then, had they neglected a tree that the gradual work of 
wind and water was bending surely over the rails ? 

To this tree the men made their way. A few minutes’ 
work, and it swayed ; then in the clamor of warring elements 
came down with a crash, spreading its long arms over the 
roadbed. 

And onward the engine roared and rumbled — onward, on- 
ward, to the death that Bera had thought so constantly near, 
nearer now than she could even dream. The fireman had 
just fired up and was leaning from the cab, when the engine 
swept around a slight curve, and with steady resistless force 
bore down upon the prostrate tree. With a cry of horror 
he leaped from the engine into the reeking swamp. Greek 
could have followed, but with cool, resolute hand the throt- 
tle was closed and a shrill piercing shriek called for brakes. 
Then in the moment left his arm encircled Bera, as the 
engine struck, recoiled ; then with a giant heave, as if in the 
last throes of death, it plunged over the tree, and out into 
the marsh beyond, where with a violent hiss and roar of 


126 


BERA . 


escaping steam death stilled the pulse of the iron monster. 
Out of the wilderness of mud and water Greek gathered 
himself and Bera, unhurt save a few bruises, their salvation 
the very power that had hurled them upon the tree with such 
force as to shiver the cab to atoms and deposit its precious 
burden, free of the wreck, in the yielding mud. 

The train-men and passengers so rudely aroused swarmed 
out with startled faces, their fears dissipated before they 
were hardly formed by the grim figures emerging from their 
temporary lodging-place, and the fireman, who came panting 
up in scarcely better plight. 

“ I knew that tree was going to fall,” asserted a trainman. 

It is strange after any great casualty happens how many 
knew all the time that it would. 

Such should be punished by law for not warning the peo- 
ple to flee for their lives from homes to be destroyed by 
cyclones, fire, and flood. 

On this occasion never were the after-wise ones so si- 
lenced as when, out in the swamp, pinioned by a huge 
straggling limb, they found Dred Chislar dead, the victim 
of his own insatiable vengeance. The startling discovery 
gave rise to much speculation during the hours until relief 
came. Through Mr. Dalton’s prompt action the guilty com- 
rade of the dead man was captured, and the doors of the 
State’s prison closed with a clang on another man brought 
there by his worst enemy — himself. 


A WILD ENGINE. 


127 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

A WILD ENGINE. 

Rain ! Rain ! One ceaseless, continuous pour. The 
earth refused longer to receive, and rivers, streams, and 
brooklets groaned as they strove to carry away their bur- 
den. For six weeks not a ray of sunshine had brightened 
the all-pervading gloom. The people, blue as the tortuous 
streams, watched with grim endurance the harvests of bend- 
ing grain destroyed, and with them their toil and future 
hope. And still it rained. 

In the little home, garnished and beautified by the hand of 
love in the three years that have passed, Bera was sitting, 
sewing. The years have added maturity to the sweet purity 
of the face that is lifted now and then to the foreboding sky. 
It was no secret that the C. and M. C. roadbed was unsafe 
in many places, and trouble lay on many faces as the trains 
pulled out lest the men at throttle and leverage would never 
come home. 

A call for assistance had gone to the Eastern capitalist to 
save the road by prompt action. The heavy drain had worn 
upon his temper and patience, and this last demand was met 
by a hasty resolve, a few imperative orders, and then under 
the sunny skies of the East he started for the West to inves- 
tigate for himself. 

Greek had been detailed on the extra to bring the irate 
owner over the road, his own especial property, until the 
raging waters claimed it by reason of greater strength. 


128 


BERA . 


The train had been an hour due, and Bera’s fingers trem- 
bled, as they guided the needle in and out knowing that oc- 
cupation lessened suspense. 

Suddenly the shrill scream of the whistle sounded through 
the driving rain, and in a few minutes the engine, panting 
and blowing, drew up to the depot. 

With great relief Bera arose and quickened the fire to keep 
the dinner warm, and then hastened to take the dripping hat 
and coat from the man who looked his wealth of untold love, 
as he kissed the lips held to his. 

“ Don’t put them away, little wife, for I must be off as 
soon as No. 4 comes in.” 

‘ ‘ O Greek ! surely they will not send you over that road 
again ?’ ’ 

“ I must,” he answered gravely. ” Rogers, who has my 
run to-day, has wired that he will go no farther than here ; 
and Mr. Arthurs is vexed, terms the danger mythical, and all 
a set of cowards. I think, had he been on the engine as we 
came over the road the other side of Dalesburg he would 
be more reasonable. The track is already under water, and 
a few more inches and all the ballast they can pile there will 
not save it, and on either hand is over fifteen feet of water. 
I must tell you this, Bera, for although I believe the track is 
safe yet, something might happen and I never return, and 
my wish is for you to take what we have and go home to 
father and mother.” 

A low cry burst from her pallid lips. 

“ O my husband ! why must you risk your life ? I could 
not, would not, live without you.” 

‘ ‘ Hush, darling, you would not have me shrink from my 


A WILD ENGINE. 


129 


duty, and others depend upon me. If Mr. Dalton should 
fail to have the train go through he might be discharged, and 
he has made it possible for us to live in independence and 
comfort. Be my brave wife once more?” and he looked 
anxiously in Bera’s face. 

There was no need to ask the question ; and through the 
rest of the afternoon as he came and went, for the train was 
delayed by an unsafe culvert, he met with no word or look 
to hold him back. 

When the train arrived, the passengers, impatient with 
delays, were pleased when it pulled out immediately for 
Cragsfort. 

An hour later, Bera, unable to bear the suspense, called 
for Frost, and went to the telegraph office. A large crowd 
was gathered there, and some excitement seemed to be 
swaying the men, for Bera caught the words, “ out an’ out 
murder. ’ ’ 

As Mr. Dalton hurried to and fro a hand rested on his 
arm and an ashy face looked into his. 

“ He is safe, Mrs. Lyle ; he passed Dalesburg, and will be 
in in half an hour ; but I wish he were here, for he is the 
only man I can depend upon.” 

“ What is wanted ?” asked Bera, relieved of her fear. 

“ Mr. Arthurs has just received word that his wife is 
dying, and he is like a man crazed. I have begged and 
threatened, but no one will take an engine and take him to 
Cragsfort ;” and Mr. Dalton hurried away at a call. 

Bera went out. The engine, glowing and hissing, stood 
ready, but no hand was brave enough to give life to the pon- 
derous wheels. Her own trouble gone, she thought re- 


i3° 


BERA. 


gretfully of the wife dying without her husband by her 
side. 

“ Better see if Lyle would return, if he is so brave,” said 
a man coarsely, as she passed. 

A thrill of dread quivered through her. 

“ If they send for him, he will come,” she thought, and 
hurried home in fearful dread. 

A few minutes later the click of the instrument told of the 
safe arrival of the train. 

Mr. Arthurs with set face took the message. 0 

“ Now ask him if it is not perfectly safe.” 

Click went the instrument, and back came the answer : 

“ Madness to attempt it.” 

“ Madness ! What is worse madness than staying here ? 
Tell this engineer to return for me.” 

“ Stay,” said Mr. Dalton, “ for I cannot allow it.” 

“Why not ?” 

* * He has already risked his life twice to-day. 

“ Tell him I will give him a thousand dollars to return.” 

“ I cannot ; he would come at my word without that.” 

” Then I must go alone, though I do not know how to 
start or stop ; ” and pushing by the men he gained the plat- 
form and leaped down. 

As he sprang upon the engine a voice exclaimed, “ I will 
go with you ;” and the dumbfounded men saw a lithe form 
follow him, and then, before their surprise allowed a detain- 
ing hand to check them, the engine, under full headway of 
steam, throttle wide open, sprang out of sight into the dreary 
darkness. 


A WILD ENGINE. 131 

With steady hand the engineer held the lever, and out 
and away, past the glimmering lights, they sped. 

The rage and dash of the tempest deepened, and the en- 
gine sent the glare of its light ahead into impenetrable gloom. 

Villagers were startled by one long shrill blast, and the 
rumbling swept swiftly by. 

On the engine all was silent, except when the engineer 
had given directions to Mr. Arthurs to fire the engine. 
They were nearing the dangerous part of the trip ; already 
the engine ground through water, but the speed was not 
slackened. 

On, on, the engine swayed and groaned with almost hu- 
man intelligence, as it threw the spray from under jthe 
wheels. 

Suddenly from the north, through the thickly studded 
woodland, came an ominous sound, a muffled, thundering 
roar. 

With the instinct of self-preservation, Mr. Arthurs sprang 
forward and grasped the throttle. 

“ Unhand that, as you value your life,” exclaimed the 
engineer, sternly, and he shrank back, while the engine with 
all the steam it could carry leaped forward. 

At Cragsfort the wire had told that No. 1, engineer un- 
known, was on the road bearing Mr. Arthurs to catch the 
midnight train. The news spread like wildfire, and hundreds 
gathered at the depot in anxious suspense. The offices were 
all closed on the line between the two places, so there was 
no means of knowing they were safe until they reached 
Cragsfort. 

The excitement was growing with the suspense, when sud- 


I 3 2 


BERA. 


denly the wire ceased to work, and they knew it had gone 
down. 

4 4 They will never come in, ’ ' Greek said ; and the fear was 
echoed by the crowd. 

The rain had ceased to fall, and through the flying clouds 
the moon peeped forth. 

Away in the distance a light came slowly into sight. The 
silence was oppressive as they waited for the surety that 
No. i was safe. 

Over the bridge, slower, panting like a tired creature, the 
engine halted down in the yard, and Mr. Arthurs sprang 
from it. 

As he advanced, relief for their safety broke forth in a 
prolonged cheer ; then with one accord they called for the 
engineer. 

He came to the door of the cab, hesitated, and reeled for- 
ward, striking heavily on the iron rails below. 

Greek, who was standing near, sprang forward and lifted 
the light form and carried him out of the night into the glare 
of the waiting-room. 

He bent over the helpless form, whose delicate beauty was 
enhanced by the extreme pallor. 

“ Who is he ?“ asked eager voices, and Mr. Arthurs pushed 
forward. 

“To whom do I owe so much ?” he asked. 

Greek arose and confronted him. 

“To my wife — and you have killed her,” pointing to the 
deathly face. 

44 Wait," said a physician, who by this time was bending 
over her. “ I think she lives, but this is no place for her 


FOUND . 133 

and the wondering crowd parted as they bore Bera to a 
chamber. 

“ Let me know of her,” said Mr. Arthurs to a railroad 
official ; and he stepped on board the train that bore him to 
the death-bed of his wife, who lived long enough to be told 
at what a sacrifice he was permitted to stand by her side as 
she stepped into the river of death. 

And back at the West Bera lived, and that was all. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

FOUND. 

The morning following the last culminating burst of fury 
in which the storm had spent itself came bright and cloud- 
less. It was soon known how narrow was the escape made 
by the adventurous trip of the night before. 

The C. and M. C. Railroad curved to the east as it neared 
Cragsfort, while to the north the river also turned east, and 
after leaving Cragsfort bent to the left, making a huge curve, 
where it might have shortened its travels by an abrupt de- 
parture across the country. 

On the night when the storm had risen in such tempes- 
tuous wrath, the river-banks above Cragsfort, weakened by 
the continuous strain, gave way, and bore down across the 
country, sweeping driftwood, grain, and herds irresistibly 
before it. It was the roar of this seething, boiling mass 
that was borne to the ears of Mr. Arthurs and Bera, and a 


134 


BERA. 

\ 

few moments later swept the entire roadbed from behind 
them. 

Greek shuddered as he passed over the cribbing for the 
first time, and saw the heavy iron rails that had been but 
toys in the hands of the flood, as they caught them up and 
hurled them two hundred feet beyond, thankful that the 
rash daring of his wife had not ended with her life, that she 
was saved, but at what a price ! For the verdict had gone 
forth : Bera would never walk again. 

The doctors were puzzled that, though suffering, but little 
pain, there was no improvement in the nervous paralysis 
that chained her to her bed. 

Bera had smiled bravely at Greek when the decision was 
made known, but when he had gone she turned her face to 
the wall and moaned. ‘ ‘ A helpless burden always ; would 
that I had died !” 

After her long, determined struggle to requite him for his 
loss of home and affluence for her sake, this was the end. 

Over and over through the long day she fought the battle 
of hopeless defiance against the inevitable, and as the sun 
touched with flickering light the golden hair dipt close of 
its rich luxuriance, she said in the strength of her despair, 
“ Would that I had died !” 

But away to the south the man who had found in the little 
home, swept and garnished for the last time by the hands 
now so helpless, the roll of golden curls wrapped about a 
bit of paper that said, “ If I go to my death I go for love of 
you,” grew tremulous with great love for his stricken wife. 

He had not given up hope, and as soon as Bera could 
bear the journey he meant to obtain leave of absence, and 


FOUND. 


*35 


take her East among skilful physicians. And he thought 
regretfully lest the two thousand dollars he had at command 
might not be sufficient, for he knew great skill commanded 
a great price, and Bera should have the best. 


In the rush and hurry of changing cars at an Eastern 
junction, the crowd parted, and a hush fell upon them as, in 
a reclining chair, a form was borne by, pathetic in its help- 
lessness. 

“ How lovely,” they said in whispers, “ and how sad !” 

Tired with the journey, Bera’s head rested on the cushion, 
the youthfulness of the pure face enhanced by the short 
clustering curls. 

There was no drawing-room coach on this route and they 
bore her into the crowded car. 

Immediately the seats were vacated, and room given for the 
sweet lady whose affliction appealed to all. Wearily Bera 
closed her eyes, the long eyelashes sweeping the marble cheek. 

In the front of the car a gentleman turned with the others 
to look at her, but his gaze became riveted, and, as if fasci- 
nated, arose and walked slowly towards her, and, looked 
earnestly into the upturned face. Indignantly Greek put 
out his hand to thrust him one side. 

“Wait,” he said excitedly; “Bera Hull, have I found 
you at last ?” 

Bera’s eyes unclosed. “ I do not know you,” she said, 
and turned appealingly to Greek. 

“ Do you not remember the lawyer who drew your father’s 
will ?” and his voice shook with excitement. 

Slowly recognition crept into the wondering eyes. 


BERA. 


136 

“ Yes, and you are he — Mr. Lynch and she held out 
her hand, a warm light breaking over her face. 

“ No,” he said sadly, “ my hand is not fit for you to 
touch, Miss Hull.” 

“ Then you had better go,” said Greek bluntly ; “ you 
weary my wife. ’ ’ 

“ Your wife ? Then you are married ?” — to Bera. 

“Yes, my husband, Mr. Lyle, Mr. Lynch ;” and the head 
drooped wearily. 

Greek rearranged the pillow. 

“ Mr. Lyle, I must speak with you at once,” said Mr. 
Lynch earnestly, “ on something of vital importance to your 
wife. Could you come with me a few minutes — indeed you 
must,” as Greek hesitated. 

The vehemence of the man had its effect, and putting 
Bera in the care of a kindly-looking lady Greek followed him 
out to the platform away from curious ears. 

“ You are doubtless familiar, Mr. Lyle, with the death of 
Judge Hull, and the subsequent events by which your wife 
became homeless ?” 

Greek nodded. 

“ I have now to confess a criminal act that has ever since 
been a source of regret and humiliation. I was a young 
lawyer, poor enough for all purposes of crime, when I set- 
tled in St. Aubern. I went in good society, and in spite of 
my poverty fell in love with Asa Burnett. I was not such 
an idiot as to ask her to share what was barely enough for 
one, but turned in feverish impatience in pursuit of wealth. 
Never could tempter have come at a more opportune mo- 
ment, and come it did in the form of a beautiful woman. 


FOUND. 


137 


l, t with others, knew that Judge Hull was dying, and one 
day there came the woman fiend who had gained access to 
his house, and in honeyed words sought my co-operation. 
Deftly she wove the web whereby, for a sum that meant 
right of love to me, I was to help her in securing Judge 
Hull’s property. *• Bera shall not suffer,’ she said ; ‘ it is my 
intention to carry out her father’s intentions and send her at 
once to Europe.’ Then, too, she hinted at an unpleasant 
alliance that would occur on Bera’s accession to wealth, 
and her love for the child was such that she would shield 
her for a few years until she could brave the temptations 
that came with wealth. I do not pretend that I was misled 
by these sophistries, but I used them as reasons to assure 
my conscience that I was right in grasping my own success. 
In the end I yielded, and sold myself to a fiend incarnate. 
In case of Judge Hull dying without a will I was to forge 
one, and by my presence at the death-bed ward off all sus- 
picion. A will was prepared, and Mrs. Hull expressed her 
belief that she could secure the signing by the Judge’s own 
hand. All worked too well for her, for when her private 
emissary came for me, he was dying. He dictated his will, I 
writing by his side, leaving ten thousand dollars to Mrs. 
Hull, and the rest to Bera. Here it is : I have never parted 
with it and he put a paper into Greek’s hand. 

“ But when, with failing eye, he wrote his name it was upon 
the will leaving all to Mrs. Hull. Remorse for my part in 
the matter began when a lovely young girl crept into the 
room and clung to her dying father.. It was the first and 
last time I ever saw Bera Hull until to-day, but her face 
would have haunted me to my grave. 


138 


BERA. 


“ Mrs. Hull promptly paid the promised sum, and then 
turned to the accomplishment of her ambition to be a society 
queen. 

“ But she was coldly received, for it began to be whis- 
pered that Bera Hull had disappeared, and she knew better 
than any one else where she was. Gradually the surmises 
grew more significant, and the belief slowly gained ground 
that there had been foul play, and only the testimony of the 
gardener, who had seen her last, prevented Mrs. Hull being 
arrested. I never heard that my name was mentioned as being 
concerned with it, and believing Mrs. Hull was taking care 
of her, I hushed any misgivings, and went to my wooing, 
that seemed to prosper as my fortunes brightened 

“ At last I could speak with every certainty of success, 
and with all a lover’s eagerness I plead for that best gift — 
a pure woman’s love. As I finished and waited for my an- 
swer, Asa turned, and looking full at me, her cheeks a bril- 
liant crimson, asked : 

“ ‘ Where is Bera Hull ?” 

“ I was stunned and humbled before her, and with bowed 
head I listened while she told me that had I come to her 
poor, but with clean hands, she would have said ‘ Yes ’ to 
my suit. 

“ Frantic with remorse and disappointment I told her all, 
and then went forth, knowing that when Bera Hull was found 
and right restored I might return. I went at once to Mrs. 
Hull and demanded Bera. She laughed in my face, and 
said, ‘ Find her ; ’ and then I, too, feared that crime had 
been added to crime ; and she would never be found. 

“ The tumult grew too strong for even Mrs. Hull, and 


MRS. HULL. 139 

one morning we found the mansion closed, and Mrs. Hull 
had gone, 4 to travel,’ she had said. 

“ Every effort was made to find some trace of the missing 
girl, but all clue was lost, and the woman who alone, as we 
believed knew the mystery, was gone. Some weeks ago I 
thought I heard of her, but was returning, all hope gone, 
when you entered the car. And now I have told you all, 
and leave the rest with you.” 

Greek put out his hand. “ You have suffered, and for 
Asa’s sake let the past be forgotten. Come, and we will tell 
my wife.” 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

MRS. HULL. 

Gently Greek told her all the story, and the color stained 
her cheeks as her old life came back in the memory of past 
events. As he finished she turned eagerly, and in childish 
pleading begged, 44 Home — take me home.” 

All the longing of years for the dear old home surged 
through her whole being. Resolutely it had been put away 
as that which must not be ; and now her whole life was 
stirred. 

Greek consulted Mr. Lynch, and then told her she should 
go, and clasping his hand, with 44 home” on her lips, drop- 
ped asleep. 

A week previous St. Aubern had been disturbed by the 
sudden return of Mrs. Hull. She had been exiled long 


140 


BERA. 


enough, and, arousing, all the old will, had returned to con- 
quer a place among the people who had ostracized her. Not 
one regret did she feel for the girl she had turned out to 
starve, and who had starved, as she gloatingly believed. 
The house had been kept in good repair, and was now ready 
for the reception of the guests, people whom she had met 
abroad and were soon to follow her, intending that for once 
the old Hull mansion should ring with gayety and mirth. 

In the dusk of the evening a carriage halted at the door, 
and Bera was carefully lifted from the cushions and borne 
up the broad steps where waited her inheritance. 

Mr. Lynch threw open the door and unceremoniously led 
the way into the dear old library, where no change had been 
made, for Mrs. Hull shunned the room so full of a silent 
presence. 

Hastily summoned by her servants, Mrs. Hull came in and 
stood spellbound. 

Bera, divested of her wrappings, lay upon a lounge drawn 
beside the grate, perfectly at home. Greek was at her side, 
and a little back in the shade was Mr. Lynch. 

She advanced haughtily. “Whom have I the honor of 
entertaining?” she asked. 

‘ 4 The owner of the house, ’ ’ said the lawyer, coming for- 
ward. 

“ Ha !” exclaimed Mrs. Hull, turning purple with rage. 
“ You ! and think you, sir, that you shall escape while you 
seek to drag me down ?’ ’ 

“I do not expect to escape,” answered Mr. Lynch. 
“ But what will you do — fight this out and take your punish- 
ment with me, or accept the terms of the will and go ?’ * 


MRS. HULL. 


141 


“ Can you return the price of your honor ?” she asked in 
bitter sarcasm. 

“Your taunt is deserved,” he answered quietly. “The 
money lies intact, waiting for the lawful owner. But what 
is your decision ?” 

Mrs. Hull was cool and collected ; she had lost and ac- 
cepted the defeat. 

“ I will go. But rest assured if I had known you would 
have lived,” to Bera, “ there would have been little left ; 
as it is, you will find that I have been a good business 
woman. But what is the matter with you ?” and the woman, 
too strong-willed to show that she was baffled, put out her 
hand to touch Bera. 

“ Do not touch her,” said Greek sternly, as he interposed 
his hand to ward off hers. 

The woman laughed bitterly, then with wonderful self- 
control remarked : 

“You are her husband, I suppose? Well, you are all 
tired doubtless, and I will have tea served here, and as you 
would rather be alone I will not intrude ;” and with a grace- 
ful bow she quitted the room. 

‘ * I will order you some supper from a restaurant, ” said 
Mr. Lynch ; “ do not touch what she sends. I have no 
trust in her. ” 

“ And then go and find Asa,” said Bera eagerly. “ I 
am so happy, I want her to be also. ” 

Mr. Lynch needed no second bidding, but departed at 
once. 

It did not suit Mrs. Hull to leave hurriedly, and it was 
the next evening that her trunks and boxes were carried 


142 


BERA. 


away, and she entered Bera’s chamber in an elegant travel- 
ling costume. 

“ Poor child,” she said, as she looked down on Bera. 
“ How afflicted! How sorry I am for your husband, tied 
for life to a cripple ;” and stooping she kissed Bera’s brow, 
and bowing to Greek, was gone, leaving that one tingling 
dart in her sensitive heart. 

“ Now I must get you help. In the first place we must 
send for Margary,” said Greek when at last they were alone. 
“ Then, when I can leave you safely, I will go to the city 
and bring a doctor.” 

“ Greek,” timidly, “ I want to ask for something.” 

‘ ‘ Why, darling, it is all yours : you have only to give your 
orders.” 

“Not that. I have been thinking that, when Asa and 
Mr. Lynch are married, could they not come here ? You 
know Asa is alone in the world now, and we owe her so 
much ; besides, she would be company for me.” 

“ Just the thing exactly. I will see Mr. Lynch at once ; 
then when you are well and we go back to the West we can 
leave the place in their charge.” 

” I like that,” said Bera ; and so it was arranged. 

Margary, overjoyed, came at once, and her skilful hands 
seemed to bring back the old days, and she never wearied 
waiting on “ Miss Bera.” 

When Asa came, happy and smiling, as Mr. Lynch’s wife, 
Greek left for New York. General Brenfield had intrusted 
him with important papers for Mr. Arthurs, and there he 
went. 

The office was crowded, and he waited his turn as one by 


MRS. HULL. 143 

one they were rapidly disposed of. When he was permitted 
to advance he delivered the packages of papers. 

“ Ah ! yes ;” and Mr. Arthurs glanced up keenly. “ I 
have no time to talk railroad now. I will give you twenty 
minutes before business hours in the morning ;” and with a 
wave of the hand he was dismissed. 

“ And he is the man for whom my wife perilled her life, 
that he might reach home — cold, bloodless, heartless.” 

In the morning he returned, only because he was obliged 
to fulfil orders. 

Mr. Arthurs looked up from his writing. 

“ Be seated,” he said briefly ; “ have looked over the re- 
ports ; glad the road is looking up ; must take care of itself 
now ; do not care to advance more upon it. You will take 
these advices to General Brenfield.” 

” I cannot,” answered Greek ; “ circumstances have arisen 
that will keep me here some months ; the papers must be 
mailed.” 

Mr. Arthurs looked at him sharply. 

“ You find New York attractive. Take my advice, young 
man : save your money and keep at work. That is all. I 
will mail these instructions myself. * ' 

Greek arose to leave. 

” One moment,” spoke Mr. Arthurs ; *‘ you are just from 
there and can tell me of Mrs. Lyle. Does she improve ?” 

“ No, sir,” said Greek grimly, ‘‘and that is why New 
York is attractive to me, and why I shall stay and spend 
money like water till I see health and strength hers once 
more.” 

‘‘Who are you?” exclaimed Mr. Arthurs, coming for- 


144 


BERA. 


ward quickly, his face alight with interest, very different 
from the cold man of business. 

“ I am Greek Lyle,” he answered. 

“Mr. Lyle,” he said warmly, “I did not imagine to 
whom I was talking ; I thought — I was told that her hus- 
band was an engineer ?” 

“ And so I am,” answered Greek independently. 

“ Come into my private office,” said Mr. Arthurs abrupt- 
ly ; “ let business wait. How do you happen to be an en- 
gineer ?” he asked ; “ you look scarce suited for such labo- 
rious work.” 

Skilfully he drew Greek out, and soon determined that he 
had unearthed a gentleman by birth and education. 

From speaking of his wife, Greek told how fortune had 
favored them in returning her lawful inheritance. 

“ I suppose you will not work any more ?” said Mr. Ar- 
thurs, giving him a shrewd glance. 

“Yes,” said Greek, his face lighting up, “ my first work 
will be to win my wife back to health ; then I will return to 
my engine.” 

“ What then ?” 

“ It is the way to reach the object of my ambition.” 

“ And what is that ?” 

“ To become capable of being at the head instead of the 
foot ; to gain control, and then set myself to right the abuses 
of railroading.” 

“And what are they?” asked Mr. Arthurs, looking 
amused. 

“ The greatest ones lie with such men as you ; the lesser 
ones, and those I would hope to reach, would be the encour- 


MRS. HULL. 


US 


agement of thrift and economy among the men, the employ- 
ing of those who are a benefit to themselves and others, the 
discouragement of vice of all kinds, and a grafting of such 
self-respect that will lift the railroad man on a par with other 
grades of society.” 

‘ ‘ It is much easier for a business man to require his work 
well performed and let morals take care of themselves,” ob- 
served Mr. Arthurs. 

“It is a mistake. There is not a man alive but would 
do his work better coming from his own home, and con- 
scious that he had a good character, and a few hundred dol- 
lars between him and the poorhouse.” 

“ I fear you are an enthusiast ?” 

“You would not think so if you had been where I have 
the last five years, and seen men, without one thought of 
to-morrow, prodigal, immoral, wicked, and not feel that you 
would like the chance to shake some sense into them,” said 
Greek dryly. 

Mr. Arthurs smiled, and asked : 

“ But this scheme of yours — you expect to rise rapidly ?” 

“ No, sir ; I have but myself to push myself, and it will 
take many years of hard work before I win a place, but in 
the end I will.” 

“ That is right, but I must not stay longer. Take this 
card to Dr. Sayers ; he will go with you. And before you 
return to the West, come to me.” Then, hesitating, he took 
a box in his hand : “I have this that my wife requested 
should be sent to Mrs. Lyle, but you returned the thousand 
dollars, and I feared this would share the same fate. Take 
it now, for the sake of my dead wife, who left it for the one 


146 


BERA. 


who sent me here in time to see her die and his voice 
trembled. 

Greek took the box. 

“ I will take it to my wife,” he said simply ; and Mr. Ar- 
thurs bowed him courteously from the room. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

ISAIAH IX. 6. 

In the old home there had been much preparation for 
many weeks. Mrs. Lyle, slightly bent by the weight of sev- 
enty-eight years, rubbed, scoured, and brightened the already 
neat house from garret to cellar. 

With a sigh, for she was tired, poor old soul, she took her 
knitting and waited for the children, who were all coming 
home to celebrate father’s and mother’s golden wedding. 

As she knitted, a smile drifted over her lips, for she had 
gone back in retrospect to those children’s childhood. Her 
two little girls had, hand-in-hand, grown to womanhood, 
married, and gone from the old roof-tree. Her little boy, 
the boy she had not seen for ten long years, was coming ; 
they were all coming home. 

Mariam came first, with her family of nine boys, and the 
little clergyman included ; and Mrs. Lyle laid by her knitting, 
and trotted hither and thither, waiting on the daughter who 
had come thus soon 4 4 on purpose to help mother. ’ ’ 

Then Helen and her husband came, and Mrs. Lyle’s cares 


ISAIAH IX. 6 . 147 

were lightened by the dexterous hands of her eldest daugh- 
ter. 

Greek had written that they could not be there till the 
morning of the golden wedding. 

“ Bera might have come sooner and helped me ; she has 
no children, and I am really quite worn out and Mariam 
sighed deeply. 

Mrs. Lyle looked deprecatingly at Helen for allowing 
Mariam to tire herself. 

“But she is so selfish,” continued Mariam no fore- 
thought for others. Now I knew mother needed help, so I 
came just as soon as my girl left me.” 

“ I do not know that Bera is selfish,” said Helen briskly ; 
“ she was but a child ten years ago, but very sweet and 
pretty.” 

“ How can you say so ?” sighed Mariam ; “ she had im- 
mense eyes, and seemed utterly incapable of doing for others. 
Poor Greek ! I fancy he has spent most of his time waiting 
upon her.” 

“ They have managed to live, I guess,” said Mrs. Lyle, 
“ though they have sent no money for deposit in along time ; 
but then Bera was no manager.” 

“ Yes,” chimed in Mariam ; “ just think, for the last four 
years they have been East every summer. When I wrote to 
Greek and expressed my disapproval, he answered that it 
was for Bera’s health. With my delicate constitution I 
would never think of such an expense, and I am sure there 
can be nothing the matter with her.” 

“ It was inconsistent,” said Mrs. Lyle. “ I thought she 
was with her step-mother, who lives at St. Aubern, and went 


BERA. 


there for economy, just as you come home every year” — to 
Mariam — ‘ ‘ but Greek said she was not with her, so I sup- 
pose he paid her board. Zona Kenney would never have 
done so.” 

‘‘Yes, and she would have saved the family name,” 
echoed Mariam. ‘‘It is a shame that the Lyle name must 
become extinct with Greek. If Bera has any conscience it 
ought to worry her.” 

But on the eventful day the boys came flocking in, ex- 
claiming : 

“ Uncle Greek has come,” and were off in a scamper, 
from fifteen-year-old Bert to the little wee one, to meet 
him. 

The older people followed, and Deacon Lyle, with out- 
stretched arms, went down the walk to meet his boy. 

Greek sprang from the carriage and turned to receive a 
bundle from his wife, who quickly followed. 

He advanced, looking any thing but like the ‘‘ poor Greek” 
they had been apostrophizing, and put the bundle in his 
father’s arms. 

“ Your wedding present, father,” he said cheerily, “ and 
here is Bera ;” and the old man, his arms encumbered, gave 
the coral lips raised to his a warm kiss. 

Mariam encompassed Greek, who gently put her by and 
hastened to his mother. 

While the welcomes were in progress Deacon Lyle stood 
holding the parcel gingerly. 

“ Unwrap your present, father,” said Mariam, who was 
scanning it eagerly ; and Bera, with visible anxiety, hastened 
to his side. 


ISAIAH IX. 6. 


149 


With their united efforts the wraps came off and a beauti- 
ful baby boy opened his wondering eyes on the astonished 
group. 

“ Alfred Lytton Lyle, No. 2, father,” said Greek, laugh- 
ing heartily at the surprise. 

“ Do you like your present, father ?” asked Bera, looking 
at him anxiously. 

The old man turned, his eyes moist and lip tremulous, and 
gave her a look full of love and pride, that told how deeply 
he was touched by the eight-months’ baby, who fastened his 
wonderful eyes upon his face, and reading the tenderness 
there, put out his little arms and clasped them about his neck 
with a loving coo. 

Mrs. Lyle came forward, her face alight with pleasure, and 
putting out her hands said : 

Let me see him, Alfred,” and taking him in her arms 
gazed long and earnestly into the baby face ; then clasping 
him close to her breast said reproachfully : 

“ Why did yoru not tell us, Greek ?” 

“ Forgive me, mother,” Greek returned, putting his arm 
about her, “ but I wanted to surprise you on your wedding 
day. What do you think of him ?” 

The aged woman pressed the fresh baby face to hers, the 
dimpled hands patting the wrinkled cheeks. 

‘‘He is a darling;” and then in a low broken voice to 
Bera, ” he is the sweetest baby I ever saw, daughter.” 

Bera stooped suddenly and kissed her cheek, bright, glad 
tears glistening in her eyes that the baby fingers had made 
the circle of love for which she had grieved and yearned the 
long years of her wedded life. 


BERA. 


* 5 ° 

“ Here, Anna, come take the boy,” said Greek, address- 
ing a young girl who stood back, her face expansive with a 
grin for baby’s triumph. ‘‘ Mother must not tire herself 
holding gold even to-day;” and he attempted to lift baby 
from his throne. 

But no : he kicked vigorously, and clung to his newfound 
grandma. 

“ Let me keep him,” said Mrs. Lyle pleadingly, her face 
aglow with gratified pride, and clasping him in her arms 
rocked gently, baby cooing and dancing. 

“ He is pretty, he is a pretty baby,” she conned. 

“ He has immense eyes, if that can be called beauty,” 
said Mariam, in her purring way. “ I thought you were 
going to allow the Lyle name to become extinct,” — to Bera. 

“ Why, are you disappointed, Mariam ?” asked Helen, 
laughing. 

‘ ‘ Oh ! of course, for the sake of the family, I am glad. 
But he can’t compare with my children.” 

“ No,” said Helen plainly, ‘‘he is very different from 
your pliable children ; that little fist shows vigor and self- 
reliance such as his father has shown, and like him, if neces- 
sary, could force his own way to success. For, Greek, you 
may as well own that you are no longer an engineer and 
Helen looked at him keenly. 

Greek laughed. ‘‘You surmise correctly, sister mine. 
Four years ago I gave my engine, grand old monster, the 
last touch and caress, and went into the general office at 
Mount Crete, where I had every facility afforded me to 
thoroughly understand railroading. I had good reasons for 
keeping you in ignorance of our prosperity.” 


ISAIAH IX. 6 . 15 1 

“You must be prosperous to be able to bring a servant ; I 
could not afford that,” said Mariam. 

“ My wife has had Anna several years,” said Greek, “ and 
knowing mother had no help we brought her.” 

“ For years ! Did you hear that, mother ?” 

“ I am sure she needed some one to help take care of this 
boy,” returned Mrs. Lyle placidly, and she bent over the 
little one, who, tired of frolic, had curled contentedly in her 
arms ; “ she does not look strong.” 

“ There it is : because Bera has a baby, she is delicate ; 
while I have had nine, and no one ever pitied me. And I 
never had but one girl, though she did all the work 
nicely. ’ ’ 

“ I don’t doubt that,” said Helen concisely. 

“ Well, they knew how many privileges they had with me ; 
they went to all the church exercises, except when there was 
a baby. I wonder how you kept one girl so long,” — to Bera, 
“ I cannot keep one but a short time, and it is surprising, 
I tell Nathan, considering the religious advantages I give 
them.” 

“You will never be appreciated in this world, sister 
Mariam,” said Greek with a twinkle in his eye. 

“ I fear not,” Mariam sighed. “ But, Bera, ought you 
not go and help Helen ; I am so fatigued.” 

“ Anna, go and help sister,” said Greek. 

“ But, Greek, I was going to send her to attend to my 
room. I was so weary, and mother did not have time,” 
said Mariam. 

Greek’s eyes flashed. “ Go, Anna,” he said, as the girl 
hesitated ; then to Mariam : 


* 5 2 


BERA. 


“You know mother is too old and feeble to wait upon 
you and your large family.” 

“ Mother wait on me ?” exclaimed Mariam. “ How can 
you be so unjust, Greek ? If I were selfish like Bera — ’ ’ 

“ Mariam !” spoke Deacon Lyle 

For one moment Mariam was startled ; then with a face 
full of grieved reproach arose and slowly quitted the room. 

Bera made a move to follow her, but Mr. Du Yernet de- 
tained her. 

“ Mariam will soon recover; her strong religious princi- 
ples enable her to forgive speedily. Now tell us more of 
yourselves in these years of voluntary exile.” 

How unconscious was this scholastic little man of the 
narrow sand-bar upon which the waves of Mariam’s life rip- 
pled softly ! 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

THE GOLDEN WEDDING. 

The old home was in a radiant, ruddy glow, for with 
willing hands Helen and Bera had taken up the sceptre that 
Mrs. Lyle had yielded for the first time in her life, and soon 
all was ready for the reception of the evening guests. Bera 
had claimed the right to dress the bride, and after the first 
encounter Mrs. Lyle had resigned herself into her hands. 
She had laid out an antiquated black silk hesitatingly, lest 
it was “ too good.” Mariam had said it would spoil it to 
have it made over, ‘ ‘ and then she would be around in the 
kitchen.” 


THE GOLDEN WEDDING. 


iS3 

“A bride in the kitchen, indeed !” laughed Bera ; “ no, 
you must have no will of your own, and to prove your sub- 
mission you must let me dress you without a word.” 

Mrs. Lyle with a sigh of relief sank into a chair, while 
Bera opened a trunk and shook out various garments, soft 
and dainty enough for a bridal, and with deft fingers ar- 
ranged the bride of the evening. 

‘ ‘ I knew you never thought of yourself, ’ ’ she said gently, 
as Mrs. Lyle protested, ” so I took the liberty to think for 
you and she smoothed the folds of a heavy silk, its own 
richness supplemented by the lace trimmings. With swift 
fingers she fastened the filmy lace at wrists and throat, then 
puffed the silvery hair under a garniture of the same. 

“ Now,” said Bera, “ one glance at the bride and I will 
take you to father. ’ * 

With a soft flush on her cheek, and shy as a young girl, 
Mrs. Lyle turned to her mirror. 

“ I did not think I could look so young,” she remarked, 
with a nervous little laugh ; “ but this must have cost ever 
so much — as much as fifty dollars. I am afraid that Greek 
could not afford it.” 

Bera smiled at the idea of fifty dollars covering the cost, 
but said : 

‘ ‘ He never gave you any thing, mother ; so accept this 
without a word.” 

“ You forget the baby,” said Mrs. Lyle reproachfully. 

“ Then this is mine ; but come— father must be waiting ;” 
and she gave her hand in support of the steps that would falter. 

In an adjoining room Greek was doing a harder day’s 
work than had been his in a long time. 


r 5 4 


BERA. 


He had given Deacon Lyle a suit of broadcloth, but his 
eloquence was unavailing to procure the donning of the 
attire. 

“Wear a suit you hardened your hands to pay for?” 
exclaimed the deacon ; “ not if I know what justice is. Why, 
boy, I let you go out to hard work — you, who had never 
handled any thing heavier than a book. You forget, do you 
not ?” 

“ Yes, father, I only think of the care I was to you in 
early life ; so please wear these.” 

“ Never,” he returned stoutly, as he laid hands on the 
well-worn cassimere that had been “ meeting” suit for many 
years. 

Upon this scene Bera ushered the bride, and understood 
at once the dilemma. 

“ See, father !” leading Mrs. Lyle forward, “ did she look 
any prettier fifty years ago ?” 

The old man looked earnestly at his wife. 

‘ ‘ They have been giving to you, too, ’ ’ he said slowly. 
“ Well, mother, you do look young again.” 

“And you must also, father,” said Greek earnestly, 
“ so do put these on.” 

“ But, Prudence, we let him go out when we had plenty, 
and to spare.” 

“To please the children, Alfred,” said his wife, “put 
them on ; they would not fit any one else now, and would be 
wasted.” 

“ But they have worked so hard, Prudence, and Greek 
earned these by getting as black as a Southern negro. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Then wear them, father, ’ ’ said Bera ; “for I will tell 


THE GOLDEN WEDDING. 


*55 


you and mother now, that four years ago my father’s will 
was found that gave nearly all to me, and I have been able 
to requite Greek for his hard, honest labor for me ; and now, 
in proof that you have forgiven his loving me and not Zona 
Kenney, I require that you accept what we have brought. 
And now we must hasten. I will go down with mother and 
you must come soon.” 

Mrs. Lyle whispered as she passed out — “ Just to please 
the children, Alfred. ’ ’ 

Still doubtful, Deacon Lyle allowed himself to be arrayed, 
and as he looked at the handsome old gentleman in the 
mirror he said — 

” I am pretty old for such folly,” trying to abridge the 
gratification he felt ; ” but Prudence put them on, too, so I 
had to, or look old ; but I guess she is waiting for me now.” 
And solicitous for the waiting bride be hurried down. 

In the meantime Mrs. Lyle had been subjected to the criti- 
cism of Mariam, who was perfectly recovered and wore her 
most self-absorbed smile in view of the coming guests. 

“ I should have gotten better lace,” she observed, with 
the air of a connoisseur, “ but I suppose you do not know 
real from imitation ?” 

“ I should have had your judgment,” said Bera, amused. 

“ I wish you had, indeed,” returned Mariam earnestly. 
“ But you are not dressed, and they will be coming soon. 
Do put on something pretty good, so you won’t look like a 
railroad man’s wife.” 

"I am all ready except my dress and hair. Where is 
Anna ?” 

‘ ‘ She is helping the boys ; I told her to. Really, Bera, 


BERA. 


*56 

you must let me have Anna ; she does wait on me beauti- 
fully.” 

Bera hurried to her room, and in a few minutes Anna came 
in breathlessly : 

“ I am so sorry, Mrs. Lyle, but they kept me so, those 
boys, and that — ” 

“ Never. mind,” interrupted Bera ; “ now do your quickest 
and best.” 

When Greek came for his wife he bent over her and 
touched the masses of curling hair with his lips. 

“This is our real bridal,” he said tenderly, “not like 
the one ten years ago.” 

“ But, Greek, would you put away the last ten years and 
wish they had not been ?” 

“ No, darling;” and a radiant light glorified Bera’s face 
as with her hand on Greek’s arm they descended. 

An involuntary exclamation passed Mariam’s lips as the 
consciousness of Bera’s beauty forced itself upon her. 

In pure white her silken robes swept the floor, and the 
masses of golden hair rippled and flowed in rich beauty. 

“ Why, Bera !” said Helen. 

“You look like a bride ; hardly good taste for one who 
has been married so long,” said Mariam, trying to be lan- 
guidly indifferent. 

“ I did not want to look like a railroad man’s wife,” said 
Bera. 

“ A wise forethought,” said Mr. Du Yernet gravely. “ Al- 
though Greek has chosen such work there is no need of many 
knowing that he ran an engine. Indeed, all the time I 


THE GOLDEN WEDDING. 157 

feared lest the keen edge of his morality would be worn off 
by such contact.” 

‘ ‘ I was not aware that I chose the work ; it seemed neces- 
sity at the time,” said Greek dryly. ” But, brother Nathan, 
who are so wicked among railroad men ?” 

“ Wh-y, there are the brakemen — ” 

“ Yes, and when those same poor, defamed brakemen 
become conductors, superintendents, and presidents, you 
can come down out of your pulpit and give them your hand, 
and are not above asking them for passes !” 

“ But you know railroad men are wicked and unregenerate 
as a class,” protested Nathan. 

“ I know no such thing,” said Greek coolly. “ I know 
the pulpit names railroad men in a breath with villains 
and gamblers. But I assert that there are as many good 
men to be found among five or six hundred railroad men as 
you would find among as many farmers, merchants, lawyers, 
yes, and even preachers, taken in the same indiscriminate 
way. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ But you must grant that wickedness has increased with 
the railroads ?” 

“I do not grant it. Take Carbon, where I lived six 
years, and the railroad run through there diffused more 
Christianity in ten years than three churches had in seventy.” 

” I fear you have become tainted with heresy,” said 
Nathan gravely. 

“ I have become tainted with common-sense. You elimi- 
nate the most important factor of Christian progress when you 
array railroads among the evils to be shunned. All I ask is 
a fair judgment on the men who are made to feel by Chris- 


BERA. 


158 

tian people that they are without the pale, which fact alone 
tends to make them reckless ; for they are under ban, and we 
know how that affects all men alike.” 

“ But I would like to know where you got those pearls ?” 
interrupted Mariam, her curiosity at fever heat, for around 
Bera’s neck was a pendant of lustrous gems. 

“ They were a gift from a dying woman’s hand, for a 
great service done her, ’ ’ returned Greek briefly, and went 
to receive the guests that soon filled the house with the merry 
laughter of youth. 

To the aged couple it was a revelation. They were alone ; 
all who had entered life with them had passed away. Per- 
haps it was the semblance of sadness that rested on their 
faces as they at last realized how soon must come a farewell 
to life. 

Baby Alfred was called for, and claimed his right to the 
arms of maid or bachelor, as he chose to favor them. 

When Deacon Lyle and his wife stood before Nathan, baby 
with a loving coo coaxed to be taken too, and as Nathan 
reviewed in solemn words their past lives, old age in the 
gray-haired man and youth in the crowing babe typified the 
extreme of life. 

After the ceremony, as solemn as the one performed fifty 
years before, for then they promised for life, and now they 
promised till death, Helen’s husband led the way to laden 
tables, where laughter gladdened the speeding hours, so- 
bered somewhat by the thought that this might be the last 
time. 

When at an early hour the guests departed, and they were 
alone once more, Deacon Lyle gathered his children around 


DEATH— IN THE WINTER . 


*59 


the altar that had been revered for fifty years, and lovingly 
committed them to a higher power ; then with tender thoughts 
and wishes they separated for the night. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

DEATH IN THE WINTER. 

The morning following the golden wedding, when Mrs. 
Lyle attempted to rise to take once more the cares of the 
house, a strong hand was laid on the feeble pulse, and mur- 
muring that she “ was tired,” sank back upon the pillows. 

The days passed, and under gentle hands and loving care 
she was still resting. 

There was no suffering, and the end came suddenly one 
morning, as Bera brushed back her hair and attempted to 
put on the fresh lace cap. 

‘ ‘ Too good, ’ ’ murmured Mrs. Lyle. Then with a lingering 
sigh, a gentle smile at Mariam, she was gone, where no self- 
imposed labor could ever stir the worn hands and nothing 
would be “ too good.” 

“ What is it?” asked Mariam fearfully. 

“ She is dead,” said Bera, the tears falling on the hands 
now so still. 

Mariam burst into a flood of tears, but did not offer to 
touch the face chilling in death. 

“ Could you send Helen to me ?” asked Bera doubtfully, 
afraid to interrupt her extravagant grief, ‘ ‘ and some one 


i6o 


BERA. . 


must tell father;” and her lip quivered as she thought of 
the lonely days before him. 

Mariam arose and left the room. In a few minutes Helen 
came and bent over the still form, her silent grief true as it 
was intense. 

“ Gone,” she whispered, “ and, Bera, poor father !” 

“ Has Mariam gone to tell him ?” asked Bera gently. 

“Yes,” returned Helen, “she is as capable of such a 
task as she was to let mother wear out her life for her.” 

Through the house rang one long shriek. 

“ Mariam !” exclaimed Helen and Bera together. 

In the hall they met Mariam, her hair in wild disorder, 
wringing her hands. 

” What is the matter with you ?” exclaimed Helen, grasp- 
ing her arm. 

” Oh ! oh ! Mother dead, and father too ! How can I 
bear it ?” 

Helen released her and went forward into the room. 

In a large chair, drawn near his secretary, Deacon Lyle 
was sitting ; on his lap in innocent slumber was little Alfred ; 
one hand was resting on the little curly head, the other held 
a pen fresh with ink. 

Mariam went to meet Nathan and Greek, whom Anna had 
apprised of Mrs. Lyle’s death. 

Stunned by the double loss they came into the room. 

“ He had been writing; see ! the pen is still wet,” said 
Nathan, as he loosened the fingers and Greek lifted the sleep- 
ing babe in his arms. 

“ What did he write ?” asked Mariam, as she moved rest- 


DEATH— IN THE WINTER. 


161 


lessly about the sorrowing group. ‘ ‘ Oh ! here is a paper. 
Why, it is his will. Shall we read it now ?” 

“ Mariam, have you no heart ?” exclaimed Greek, taking 
the paper from her and placing it in the private drawer that 
stood open, closed and locked it, giving the key to Helen. 

“ She can be trusted,” he said simply. “ Now, Nathan, 
help me with father.” 

With gentle hands the last care was given to the husband 
and wife who had gone together, so that none of the loneli- 
ness of life remained to either. And Mariam was dividing 
the spoils. 

“ Oh Mariam ! wait,” begged Helen. 

“ Why, Helen, they are through with all the dross of this 
life, and selfish grief must not prevent our taking up the 
burdens of life and bearing them through to the end. But 
which will you take ?’ ’ standing back to view the piles of sil- 
ver, hoping Helen would choose the smaller. 

“ But where is Greek’s share ?” 

‘ ‘ Oh ! I thought he ought not to have any ; he never was a 
daughter, and cannot reverence what was our mother’s as we 
do;” and Mariam sighed. Then eagerly Helen, don’t 
you think I should have that new silk of mothers ? You 
can’t think how much I want it.” 

‘ ‘ Bera gave it to her, so you have no right to it, ’ ’ said 
Helen severely. 

Mariam’s face lengthened, and she said in a grieved tone : 

“ It seems strange to be told before mother is in her grave 
that I have no right to her things,” and looking at Helen 
reproachfully, left the room ; but long before her return the 


162 


BERA. 


dress lay in her trunk, with the old one, that would make 
over so nicely now : mother had not spoiled it. 

Had painter or sculptor given a face the expression that 
would portray this acme of heartlessness, the production 
would be termed unreal. 

But Mariam was seemingly unconscious of the fact that, 
could her character be personified, even she would recoil 
from the reality. She but paid homage to her own sanctity 
when she secured the best of every thing. 

“ Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” The words of the preach- 
er fell upon the ears of the mourners as the coffins were low- 
ered into one broad grave. 

“ If they had only loved me sooner,” Bera whispered 
sorrowfully ; and Greek pressed her hand as he stifled his 
own grief, feeling that he too had been robbed of years of 
love that could never be his again. 

Mariam was in hysterics, and Helen stilled her own sorrow 
to comfort her. 

“How Mariam loved them!” the sympathizing friends 
observed, as with slow steps they wandered to where they 
had laid their own dead in uncomforted sorrow, forgotten 
nearly, save on such occasions as this, when no time is lost. 

How few lay aside the daily avocation and seek for even 
one brief hour to linger in tender memory by the departed 
dead. 

Here lies a little child, the very marks of its existence fast 
being obliterated. Where is the mother who hung in un- 
controllable anguish over her dead darling ? Could she not 
spare a few of the flowers from her hair to lay with gentle 
hand on this neglected grave ? 


DEA TH IN THE WINTER . 


163 


Here lies a father, his broad acres, the toil and struggle 
of a lifetime, rich in harvests of bountiful plenty ; and he is 
sleeping under a sixteen-dollar slab, while his son rides by 
every day in a thousand-dollar outfit, shrewdly complacent 
on what he has gained, without one thought of gratitude for 
the hardened hands that gave him their all, and then con- 
veniently folded them upon his breast and died. 

And here a wife, with the freshness of the early morning 
lingering on cheeks and lips, who had whispered, “ Do not 
quite forget me,” to the husband bending in strong grief 
over her. 

Did she have a premonition of the unmarked sunken grave 
where even the grass could not climb down, barren, deso- 
late ; and yet he said he loved her once ? 

Husbands, wives, mothers, search out the neglected graves 
and carry a few flowers and lay them in loving memory over 
the dead. Though they may not know of your thoughtful 
deed, your own humanity will be stirred to a broader, deeper 
conception of the power of love, that can reach through the 
selfishness of worldly absorption, and remember those who 
lie where we must, forgotten perhaps if we forget, remem- 
bered perhaps if we remember. 


164 


BERA . 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

THE WILL. 

Helen’s husband must return at once, and Greek too 
could stay no longer, and there was a family conclave, at 
Mariam’s suggestion. 

Helen opened the private drawer and drew forth the paper 
that all had seen on the day of Deacon Lyle’s death, and at 
a motion from Greek gave it to her husband. 

With much rustling and a little preparatory cough he read 
in measured tones the words that left the entire property to 
Helen and Mariam, Helen’s share at her death to revert to 
Mariam’s children. 

“ Dear father,” sighed Mariam. 

Bera slipped her hand in Greek’s with a sympathetic pres- 
sure, for he had grown white to the lips. 

“ Thank you, dear,” he said softly; “ I thought I was 
prepared for it, but I did not know how hard it was to be 
forgotten.” 

4 4 Greek can break this will, ’ ’ said Helen, 4 4 for he is not 
even mentioned.” 

“Yes,” returned her husband slowly, divided between 
having half during his wife’s life, or a third that could all be 
his, 44 that is the question.” 

44 There is no question at all,” said Greek quickly, “ I 
shall never break, or attempt to break, my father’s will. To 
me his memory — ” 


THE WILL . 


i6 5 

“ If you please, Mr. Lyle, ” said Anna, coming in hastily, 
“ I found this piece of paper in Mrs. Du Vernet’s room as I 
was sweeping,” and glancing maliciously at Mariam* with- 
drew. 

Greek smoothed out the paper, that bore signs of vicious 
crumpling, and read : 

“ I, Alfred L. Lyle, do hereby revoke my last will, and 
desire that Greek Lyle, my son, shall share equally with 
Helen and Mariam, my daughters, all real and personal es- 
tate. Also, I hereby appoint Greek Lyle, my son, as sole 
administrator of said estate. Alfred L. Lyle.” 

“He did not forget me!” exclaimed Greek gladly. 
“ And now I give this paper into your hands, Bera, to do 
with as you please.” 

Bera took the paper, and looking into her husband’s face, 
to read his sanction, tore it once, and stepping to the grate, 
a little flash and it was gone. 

Mariam gave a sigh of relief, the first sign of interest she 
had given since the discovery of the paper. 

“ And I am administrator, as herein provided,” said 
Helen’s husband touching the will ; and to himself, “ I will 
get my per cent from Mariam’s share.” 

“ And,” she thought, “ we will get it all by and by.” 

Helen hesitated, in her desire to do right against the love 
of money. She thought she loved her brother, but a half was 
so much more than a third, and for her husband’s sake she 
must take the half ; that the income would yield abundantly, 
ere her death : and thus her good angel passed by. 

“ And now,” said Greek, “ every thing is ready, and we 
will go this morning, instead of to-night. The old home is 


BERA. 


166 

gone forever. I thought I had one sister at least, but I was 
mistaken. You and Mariam have chosen gold instead of a 
brother : you in thought for your husband ; Mariam for her- 
self, even to crime. It is hard to know the truth, but since 
it must be, you cannot give me protestations of love that 
would be false in shadow and substance. Let me tell you 
now that we are not poor, for through my wife we are 
placed farther above want than you with your ill-gotten 
gains. But remember, I can never forget that you would 
have allowed me to go back to hard labor, when you could 
have willed it otherwise. I shall try to forgive, holding 
nothing against you, who are still my sisters by nature, 
though you have deliberately shattered the spirit of sister- 
hood. Come, Bera and with an easy bow he quitted the 
room, followed by Bera, who caught Helen’s hand with a 
quick clasp as she passed. 

“ How strange,” sighed Mariam, “ that Greek should 
allow money to come between him and home ! I never could 
have done so ; but come, Nathan, we have really forgotten 
to have prayers.” 

Estates are made, willed, and quarrelled over. Every 
father has his peculiar views. One leaves all to a son, for- 
getting that the daughters are his children as well. Others 
leave their wealth to educate the children of other men, 
while their own longed for knowledge and were denied. Men 
put kid-gloves on agents of charitable institutions while their 
own sons and daughters toil in heat and cold barehanded. 
Where there is one just will there are thousands of unjust 
ones. If the forgotten one tries to secure his rights the cry of 
“ grasping” is raised ; but who ever heard of one, who by 


GREEK , BERA, AND THE BABY, 167 

right of law if not by right of conscience, holding the power, 
called mercenary ? 

This general truth Mariam expounded in her remark. 
That she could do wrong was impossible. She had gone to 
Deacon Lyle with the intelligence that his wife was dead, 
and it was but justice done to herself, to take the paper wet 
with ink from under his dead hand, in order to preserve 
what she had long considered her own. Helen might suffer 
some pangs, but Mariam was free from self-reproach. 

A few days were spent by Greek and Bera at St. Aubern, 
where the home was gracefully presided over by Asa, whose 
two little girls shared with baby Alfred old Margary’s heart. 

Then to the West, and Greek resumed his place in the of- 
fice, following the required routine with faithful exactness. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

GREEK, BERA, AND THE BABY. 

On Chestnut Avenue, in Mount Crete, a house has been 
built, with every appliance of wealth and comfort. Within 
a home has been created by love. 

To-night two faces are at their customary places, watching 
for the coming of the husband and father ; and now as he 
turns the corner the door is opened, and with a gleeful 
shout his boy springs into his arms for the first kiss ; then 
with great magnanimity, “mamma now,” baby yields his 
place to the sweet woman who has made his papa’s life so 
beautiful. 


1 68 


BERA. 


“A letter from Frost,” Greek announces when there 
comes a lull in the greetings. 

“ And what does he say ?” asked Bera eagerly. 

“ Well, he asks for an engine when he closes this school 
year.” 

“ And will you advise that ?” asked Bera. 

“ He must do whatever he thinks best, but I also have a 
letter from the Regent of the University, and he says it is 
the intention to offer him a tutorship in the Mechanical 
Engineering department at the close of the year.” 

44 Greek, he must take it.” 

“ There is no need for must ; Frost is well calculated in 
theory and practice to take the place, and when offered he 
will do so. His eagerness to get work is worthy of him, 
for he has accepted his education from us, and his pride will 
allow nothing more.” 

‘ ‘ How strange, ’ ’ said Bera, ‘ ‘ that unthinking, unwinking, 
white-headed boy, who nicknamed himself Frost, a professor 
in embryo !” 

‘‘He is smart without a doubt,” replied Greek ; ‘‘but, 
Bera, he also writes that he went as I requested, and after 
fifteen months father and mother’s grave remains un- 
marked.” 

‘‘You will send at once and have a monument erected, 
Greek ?’ ’ 

‘‘ Yes, at once. But I have more to tell you. General 
Brenfield has resigned and Mr. Arthurs has come to appoint 
his successor. It is hard for us all to have the General go.” 

“ But who is the new superintendent ?” asked Bera. 

“ One who shrinks from the responsibility, who fears that 


GREEK , SERA, AND THE BABY. 169 

he will never reach his high ideal of the duties of the place, ’ ’ 
said Greek gravely. 

“ If he hesitates from that cause he will be successful,” 
said Bera earnestly. ‘ ‘ Perhaps he will have your ideas of 
bringing the railroad class to a higher, better standing 
among others ?” 

‘ * Do you think it is possible, wife, or have I dreamed of 
an impossibility ?” 

“ I do believe it quite possible,” said Bera quietly ; “ but 
who has the place ?” 

“There,” exclaimed Greek, “ comes Mr. Arthurs. He 
sent me on to tell you he was coming, and I had forgotten, 
really, in the interest of so many events.” 

“This is pleasant,” said Mr. Arthurs, as they gathered 
about the cheerful table. “ I have no home life,” sadly ; 
then throwing aside his own trouble, he entered heartily into 
the enjoyment of the quiet but perfect happiness about him. 

“ But who is the new superintendent ?” Bera asked again, 
when General Brenfield’s resignation was discussed ? 

“ If you have a bottle of wine convenient, Mrs. Lyle, I 
will break it over his head,” said Mr. Arthurs, laughing. 

“ Greek !” exclaimed Bera, thoroughly surprised. 

“ Yes,” said Mr. Arthurs, “ and while he goes on to suc- 
cess, may he make a dead language live again among the 
men who are intrusted with human life, and send our com- 
merce hurling to the seas, until ‘ a railroad man ’ shall no 
longer be a term of reproach, till they shall march in the 
foremost ranks of morality and intelligence, a pride to them- 
selves and a pride to their country.” 


THE END. 





. 






























































- 

























. 







Ill AUTHORS PUBLISHING CO.’S NEW BOOKS. 


r* 


PRACTICAL THOUGHT. 

Mercantile Prices and Profits; 

Or the Valuation of Commodities for a Fair Trade. 
By M. R. Pilon. Handsomely printed, 8vo., paper, 
100 pp., In Press. 

The author has brought broad experience and comprehensive research to 
near upon his subjects. His style is terse and perspicuous. He uses the easy 
and concise language of an educated business man ; and, with wonderful art, 
invests every chapter with the grace and charm of a well- told story. 

Monetary Feasts and Famines; 

Labor, Values, Prices, Foreign and Fair Trade, Scarcity 
of Money and the Causes of Inflation. By M. R. Pilon, 
author of “The Grangers.” Uniform with “The 
Grangers,”— (In Press.) 

What is Demonetization? 

Ways to arrive at the Demonetization of Gold and 
Silver, and the establishment of Private Banks under 
control of the National Government. By. M. R. 
Pilon, author of “ The Grangers.” Fifth Edition. 
Svo., 186 pp., paper cover, . . Price 75 cents. 

The work is interesting, and especially valuable to financiers.— Jersey City 
Daily Journal . 

He gives expression to a good deal of sound financial principle.— Louisville 
Daily Commercial. 

It is fuK of common sense Valuable for its facts, its thoughts and its 

suggestions.— Troy Daily Whig. 

Is wMktteu in an interesting and popular style and contains much useful in- 
formation.— Oakland. Cal.. Daily News. 

The subject of the high valuation of gold and silver currency is fully dis- 
cussed, and offers some new ideas worthy the attention of those interested iD 
monetary affairs. — Toledo Commercial. 

The author isa merchant who has extensively studied the currency problem. 

His hits are often sharp and incisive Mr. Pilon would provide ample 

banking facilities for every city, town and village, with both stock and land 
security .—Cincinnati Daily Star. 

Discussing the currency question in an original, forcible and enter- 
taining style. The author has brought together a great amount of varied 

information upon the whole subject of money Those interested will find 

unquestioned ability in the author’s handling of it.— Baltimore Methodist 
Protestant. 


The Manuscript Manual: 

How to Prepare Manuscripts for tbe Press— practical 
and to the point. Paper, 26 pp., Svo. Price 10 cents. 

A most useful little companion to the young writerand editor.— The South , 
New York. 

Gives excellent hints to Intending writers.— Cleveland Evan. Messenger 


THE AUTHORS’ PUBLISHING CO.’S NEW BOOKS. 


The Race for Wealth, 

Considered in a Series of Letters written to each other by a 
Brother and Sister. Edited by James Corley. 12mo, 180 
pp., paper ...... Price 50 cents. 

Shows how labor strikes may be prevented ; how women may 
advance their political influence ; how marriage may recover due 
regard in public opinion ; the impossibility of enforcing total ab- 
stinence from strong liquors ; and treats these and other topics 
of social and political economy in a clear style, making the work 
peculiarly attractive and impressive. 

Aptly considered.— #£. Louis Christian. 

Of special importance. — Cincinnati Gazette. 

Attractive . . . needed.— Quincy Whig. 

Sensible, robust, sound. —Hartford Courant. 

Clear, earnest, thoughtful. — Phila. Nat. Baptist. 

Pleasant, intelligent, wholesome, useful .—Zion's Herald, Boston. 

Simplicity in the arguments and the way of presenting them that is re- 
freshing.— Louisville Courier Journal. 

Author’s Manuscript Paper. 

Made from superior stock, in two grades, and sold only in 
ream packages. Each package warranted to contain full count 
of 480 sheets. 

MANUFACTURED BY THE AUTHORS’ PUBLISHING COMPANY. 

AUTHOR’S MANUSCRIPT PAPER, 5 X + 11, per ream . . . $1.00 

AUTHOR’S MANUSCRIPT PAPER, 5% + 11, heavier, per ream . 1.25 

Note.— W hen paper is sent by mail 50 cents per ream, in addition to price, 
must accompany order, to prepay postage. 

It is only by making a specialty of this paper, manufacturing directly at 
the mills in large quantities, and selling exclusively for cash, that the de- 
mand can be supplied at these low prices. It is really nearly one hundred 
per cent, cheaper than any other paper in the market. 

It is ruled on one side, the other plain ; is approved by writers and pre- 
ferred by printers ; and it has now become the popular standard paper for 
authors, contributors, editors, and writers generally. 

The A. P. Co. sell no other stationery. 

A very convenient size, and at a low price. —Publishers' Weekly , N. Y. 

The distinguishing feature of the Manuscript Paper is its convenient 
shape. The texture is neither too thick nor too thin, making it in every way 
a desirable paper for writers and contributors.— Acta Columbiana, New 
York. 

It is especially useful for writers for the press, combining as it does good 
duality with cheapness. The convenience of form is apparent to all* who 
Have writing to do, while it soon saves its price in postage.— Essex County 
Press, Newark , N. J. 

Thousands of letters from well known authors, editors, and 
writers are on file in our office expressing the highest satisfac- 
tion with this paper , and thanking us for introducing it into 

market, 

4 


THE AUTHORS’ TUBLISniNQ CO.’S NEW BOOKS, 


AESTHETIC THOUGHT. 

Irene; or, Beach-Broken Billows: 

A Story. By Mrs. B. F. Baer, author of “ Lena’s 
Marriage,” “The Match-Girl of Hew York,” “Little 
Bare-Foot,” etc., etc. The second volume of the Inter- 
national Prize Series. Second Edition. Cloth extra, 
fine thick paper. Umo. . . . Price $1 00. 

Natural, honest and delicate. — New York Herald. 
Charming and thoughtful. — Poughkeepsie Eagle. 

Depicted 3u strong terms. — Baptist Union , New York. 
Eminently pleasing and profitable. — Christian Era , Boston. 
A fascinating volume.— Georgia Musical Eclectic Magazine. 
Characters and plot fresh and original. — Bridgeport News. 
With freshness, clearness, and vigor. — Neb. Watchman. 
Delightful book. — a Saturday Review , Louisville, Ky. 

Lays open a whole network of the tender and emotional. — 
Williamsport (Pa.) Daily Register. 

The unity is well preserved, the characters maintaining that 
probability so essential in the higher forms of fiction. — Balti- 
mof e Methodist Protestant. 

There is a peculiar charm in the reading of this book, which 
every one who peruses it must feel. It is very like to that 
which is inspired in reading any of Hawthorne’s romances.— 
Hartford Religious Herald. 

Wild Flowers: 

Poems. By Charles W. Hubner, author of 
“ Souvenirs of Luther.” Elegantly printed on fine 
tinted paper, with portrait of the Author, imitation 
morocco and beveled edges, 196 pp., 12mo. Just ready , 

Price $i.oo. The same, gilt top, beveled edges, $1.25 

As a poet Mr. Hubner is conservative— always tender and delicate, never 
turbid or erratic. He evinces a strong love of nature and high spirituality, 
and brings us, from the humblest places and in the humblest guises, beauties 
of the heart, the life, the universe, and. while placing them before our vision, 
has glorified them and shown that within them of whose existence we had 
never dreamed. 


Her Waiting Heart: 


A Hovel. By Lou Capsadell, author of u Hallow 
E’en.” Cloth extra, 192 pp., 12mo. Just ready. $1 UO. 

A story of New York— drawn from the familiar phases of life, which, under 
the calmest surfaces, cover the greatest depths. Charming skill is shown in 
the naturalness of characterization, development of plot and narrative, 
strength of action and delicacy of thought. 


THE AUTHORS* PUBLISHING CO.’S NEW BOOKS. 


Women’s Secrets; or, How to be Beautiful: 

Translated and Edited from the Persian and French, with 
additions from the best English authorities. By Lou. 
Capsadell, author of “Her Waiting Heart,” “Hallow 
E’en,” etc. Pp. 100, ISmo. 

Saratoga Edition , in Scotch granite paper covers, 25 cents. 
Boudoir Edition, French grey and blue cloths, . 75 cents. 

The systems, directions and recipes for promoting Personal Beauty, as practiced for 
thousands of years by the renowned beauties of the Orient, and for securing the grace 
and charm for which the French Toilette and Boudoir are distinguished, together with 
suggestions from the best authorities, comprising History and Uses of Beauty; The Best 
Standards; Beautiful Children; Beauty Food, Sleep, Exercise, Health, Emotions* How 
to be Fat ; How to be Lean ; How to be Beautiful and to remain so, etc., etc. 

Sumners’ Poems : 

By Samuel B. Sumner and Charles A. Sumner. With 
Illustrations by E. Stewart Sumner. On fine tinted 
paper, 518 pp., cloth extra. Regular 12mo edition, $2.50 
Large paper, 8vo, illustrated, full gilt, beveled edges.. .§1.00 
Sparkling, tender and ardent .—Philadelphia Book Buyer . 

Vivacity and good humor.— Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes. 

Brilliant and humorous, patriotic and historic. — American Monthly, Phila. 
Equal to anything that is at all akin to them in “ The Excursion.” — N. Y. 
World, 

The Buccaneers : 

A stirring Historical Novel. By Randolph Jones, Esq. 
Large 12mo, cloth extra, ink and gold. Paper $1. Cloth $1.75. 
Is drawn from the most daring deeds of the Buccaneers and the sharpest 
events in the early settlement of Maryland and Virginia. It is so full of 
thrilling action, so piquant in sentiment, and so thoroughly alive with the 
animation of the bold and ambitious spirits whose acts it records with ex- 
traordinary power, that the publishers confidently bespeak “ The Bucca- 
neers ” as the most strongly marked and the beet of all American novel! 
issued during the year. 

Cothurnus and Lyre. 

By Edward J. Harding. Fine English cloth, ink and gold, 

12mo, 126 pp $1 00 

Real poetic feeling and power.— Am. Bookseller. 

Nobility not without sweetness. — N. Y. World. 

Vigor which is quite uncommon . — London Spectator. 

A unique and striking work . — Boston Home journal. 

Models of neatness and consideration.— N. Y. Commercial. 

Has created a sensation in Eastern literary circles.— Chicago Herald. 


THE SATCHEL SERIES. 

BRIGHT, ELEGANT, CHARMING! 

STORY, ROMANCE, TRAVEL, ADVENTURE, HUMOR, HEALTH, PLEASURE. 

From the Boston Home Journal. 

The “ Satchel Series ” comprises the brightest and best brief works of 
fiction by American authors who are, for the most part, well known to 
the reading public. They are not trashy reprints nor “ dime novels,” 
but are clean and polished in matter, printed in large type, neatly 
bound in paper covers, convenient alike for railway, seashore or home 
reading. 

Short, sententious and marrowy, pleasing in style and 
handy in form — with bold type and open, cheerful pages — 
they are designed to fill fragments of leisure, in all seasons 
and places, with the genuine comforts of reading. 

VOLUMES READY. 

Nobody’s Business. By author “ Dead Men’s Shoes,” “ Heavy Yokes, ’’etc. 30c. 
Story of the Strike. Scenes in City Life. Ili’ted. By Elizabeth Murray. 30c. 

Lily’s Lover. By author of “ Climbing the Mountains,” etc 35c. 

Traveller’s Grrab-Bagr. Stories, Thought, Fancies. By an Old Traveller. . 35c. 

Prisons Without Walls. Novelette. By Kelsic Etheridge, 35c. 

Rosamond Howard. Fact and fancy. By Kate R. Lovelace 25c. 

Bonny Eag-le. A Summer jaunt to the forests of Maine 25c. 

How to be Beautiful. A Toilet Manual for Ladies. By Louise Capsadell 25c. 

Earnest Appeal to Moody. A Satire 10c. 

Voice of a Shell. Stories of the Sea, and Sea Songs. By O. C. Auringer. 40c. 

Our Winter Eden. Pen Pictures of the Tropics. By Mrs. Cazneau 30c. 

Our Peggotties. By Kesiah Shelton 23c. 

Only a Tramp. A fascinating, picturesque novel. By O wan da. Just out.. 50c. 

Who Did It? A vivid, thrilling story. By Mark Frazier. Just out 30c. 

Poor Theophilus, and the City of Fin. By a Contributor to Puck 25c. 

Bera, or the C. & M. C. R. R. By Stuart De Leon. A Novel 40c. 

How it Ended. By Miss Marie Flaacke A sweet and pretty love story. . . 25c. 
Glenmere. A story of Love versus Wealth Shortly. 


IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENTS. 

Nearly Ready. 

A Complete Scientific Grammar of the English Language— in- 
cluding Phonetics. By W. Colegrove, Pres. W. Va. College. For 

Schools and Students 

The Queer Little Wooden Captain. By Sydney Dayre. Being volume 
I. of the “ Enchanted Library ” for Young Folks 


NEW BOOKS AND NEW EDITIONS 

JUST ISSUED BY 

THE AUTHORS’ PUBLISHING COMPANY, 

27 Bond Street, New York. 


MISCELLANEOUS. 

Analytical Processes; or, the Primary 
Principle of Philosophy. By Rev Wm 

L Gill, A. M ' $2.00 

Beauty of the King. A brief Life of Christ. 
By Rev. A. H. Holloway, A.M., $1.0C; 

full gilt, $1.25 

Christian Conception and Experience. By 

Rev. Wm. I. Gill, A.M $1.00 

Ecclesiology: Fundamental Idea and Con- 
stitution of theNew-Testament Church. 

By E. J. Fish, D.D $2.00 

Evolution and Progress. An Exposition 
and Defence. By Rev. Wm. I. Gill, A.M. 

$1.50 

Life Among the Clergy. By Rev. Robert 

Fisher $1.25 

Life for a Look. By Rev. A. H. Hollo- 
way 15 cents. 

Resurrection of the Body. Does the Bible 
Teach it ? By E. Nisbet, D.D. Intro- 
duction by G. W. Samson, D.D $1.00 

Universe of Language. Uniform Notation 
and Classification of Vowels, adapted 
to all Languages. By the late George 
"Watson, Escu of Boston. Edited by his 
daughter, E. H. Watson $1 50 

Is our Republic a Failure? A Dis- 
cussion of Rights and Wrongs of North 
and South. By E. H. Watson $1.50 I 

Camping in Colorado. With Sugges- 
tions to Gold-Seekers, Tourists and In- 
valids. By S. A. Gordon $1.00 

Manuscript Paper. Per ream, $1 .00 or 
$1.25. By mail, 50c. per ream extra. 
Manuscript Manual. How to Prepare 

Manuscripts for the Press 10 cents. 

Mercantile Prices and Prhflts. By M. R. 
Pilon. (In press .) 

Race for Wealth. Considered in a Series 
of Letters written to each other by a 
Brother and Sister. Edited by James 

Corley 50 cents. 

What is Demonetization of Gold and Sil- 
ver? By M. R. Pilon 75 cents. 


FICTION AND ESTHETICS. 

Buccaneers, The. Historical Novel. By 
Randolph Jones. Paper, $1; cloth $1.75 
Deacon Cranky, the Old Sinner. By Geo. 


Guirey $1 50 

Cothurnu 3 and Lyre- By E. J. Har- 

ding $1.00 

Her Waiting Heart- By Louise Cap- 

SADELL $1.00 

In Dead Earnest. By Julia Brickin- 

$1.25 

Irene. By Mrs. B. F. Baer $1.00 


Linda ; or, Uber das Meer. By Mrs. H. 

L. Crawford. For Young Folks $1.25 
Mystic Key. A Poetic Fortune Teller 75c 
Our Wedding Gifts. By Amanda. M. 

Douglas. Paper, 50 cents ; cloth. .$1.00 
Shadowed Perils- By M. A. Avery $1.00 
Sumners’ Poems- By S. B. and C. A. Sum- 
ner. Illustrated. 12mo. $2 50 ; 8vo. $4.C0 
Wild Flowers. By C. W. IIubner. $1.00 
THE SATCHEL SERIES. 
Howto be Beautiful. Cl. 75c. ; paper 25c. 


Appeal to Moody .....10c. 

The Traveler’s Grab-Bag 25c. 

Prisons Without Walls 25c. 

Bonny Eagle 25c. 

A Story of the Strike 30c. 

Lily’s Lover 

Rosamond Howard 25c. 

Voice of a Shell 40c. 

Nobody’s Business 30c. 

Our Winter Eden 30c. 

Our Peggotties 25c. 

Only a Tramp 50c. 

Who Did It ? 30c, 

Poor Theophilus 25c. 

How it Ended 25c. 

Bera; or, C. & M. C. Railroad 40c. 

Glenmere 


V Books mailed, postpaid, to any part of the United States and Canada, upon 
receipt of price by the publishers. 

New Plan of Publishing and Descriptive Catalogue mailed free. 
























































































9 





















> 



)% 





jrool 



K > 3 

g*3 

OK 

iDsl 



lr 


j§j] 












































